


April Showers Bring May Flowers

by dreamboatdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bi!Dean, DCBB (2017), F/F, F/M, High School AU, M/M, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, artist!Cas, cellist!Dean, dean is a sweety, dean is slightly better at feelings, even though he's not in it, john is still a dick, sam is a sarcastic shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamboatdean/pseuds/dreamboatdean
Summary: Dean Winchester is your average high school senior. Still figuring out who he is, stressed for the future, crushing on a boy he knows he could have, but is too afraid to act on it. So when the senior camping tradition and Dean's final school cello performance come into view, he decides to take a risk. And dive headfirst into something new.





	1. C. I

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! i'd like to thank you for stopping by.
> 
> this is my wonderful partner (crxstalcas) and i's addition to dcbb 2017. check the art out here http://crxstalcas.tumblr.com/post/167221610731/april-flowers-may-bring-showers-dean-winchester
> 
> this challenge has been so much fun and such a great experience!! i'd definitely recommend checking it out, being surrounded by talented and kind people is the greatest feeling ever, and everyone should get to be a part of that :)
> 
> thanks again, enjoy!

     

_“So,” Dean leaned to his side, “Watcha doodling?”_

_Castiel moved his arm to cover his sketchbook, “None of your business.”_

_“Whatever, I know it’s cool either way.”_

_Cas rolled his eyes as he resumed his sketch. Dean turned to the front of the classroom, sighing. But when he glanced back at his elbow partner, he saw his lips upturned in a small smile._

_Dean’s eyes drifted back to the sketchbook, to where a thin red thread was drawn. It was tied to someone’s pinky finger. The thread was knotted and frayed in some parts, but still intact. It twirled off the bottom of the page._

_Dean’s heart fluttered. He stared down at his pants and coughed as Castiel looked up at him, his eyebrows raised._

_..._

Dean stared at the boy in front of him, more specifically at the rhythmic movement of his left hand. He had decorated the margins of his notebook paper with detailed drawings of jewelry and flowers.

At one point towards the bottom of the paper a wrinkled hand reached from the side towards a small tortoise. Dean's look drifted towards his face, his brow was creased. The blue-eyed boy stopped, blinked once, twice, and set his pencil down. He lifted his head to meet Dean's gaze and smiled.

Dean looked away as his face flushed pink. Suddenly deciding that the lesson may have been of some importance.

He squinted at the board, careful to avoid looking back at Castiel's paper. As his teacher droned on about the importance of young entrepreneurs in the modern working world, Dean tapped a symphony on the table top. Paying tribute to Tchaikovsky's symphony No.5 in E Minor – number 3. Sadly, even conducting an imaginary orchestra couldn't make the time pass quicker, and Dean had almost fallen asleep by the time he could head to his next class.

Dean gathered is things, bolting out the door the second the bell rang. He turned down the first hallway.

"Hey ginger." Dean grinned, skidding to a stop at Charlie's locker.

"Yo! Off to chamber strings, are we?" She grinned.

"You know it." Dean smiled back. Picking his pace back up as Charlie shut her locker. Her arms now additionally holding a black binder stuffed to the point of no return, stray papers peeking out of the sides. Sections crumpled or spilled on, "You know, the one thing I'd never get over is the fact that every score has at least 9 parts to it. You never get a solo. And you violas are still stuck with 16 measures of triplets, all open D."

"Tell me about it." She sighed as she struggled to catch page four of 'Lovers' by Carter Burwell as it floated through the air.

They bounced down 6 flights of stairs to the basement, passing and waving to Benny Lafitte and Jo Harvelle on their way. Dean nodded to Mr. Hamish.

Dean smiled and continued through the door of B-13, Charlie following close behind him. Dean made his way to the locker room, he unbuckled his cello case, leaning the plastic shell against the wall and grabbing a stand on the way out. Charlie skipped to Dean, sitting herself down beside him.

"Bela is playing with us today, right?"

Dean nodded. He arranged his sheet music, bars of the staff highlighted in different colors, on the stand, "It is a trio, Charlie."

She rolled her eyes and poked him with the tip of her bow, "Hey!" Dean said, "I'm not the one with score from 'The Hobbit' in my class binder."

She scoffed, "Explain the Star Trek then!"

Dean laughed, taking his bow out of his case and tightening it so that the beige horse hair was strung perfectly taught. He placed it on the string and drew the bow, his other hand hovering just above the tuning pegs. The body of his cello rested perfectly in between his legs and his back was curved in an easy position. He only pulled out the real posture at performances. He cast a glance at Charlie, who preferred to stand, as she beckoned Bela over. Charlie set her bow on the D string, her viola perched comfortably on her shoulder.

They began to play as Bela arrived. The piece was of Dean's own composition. It was mellow and nostalgic, yet laced with cheerful undertones that lay within Charlie and Bela's small duet; during which Charlie shifted high on the G string while Bela's sweet, airy vibrato on the E and A strings set a mood that you could only ever reach through music.

They ran through the 5 sheets, smiling widely at each other afterwards.

"I just love it!" Bela chirped, "You're going to win! and I assure you, Dean, I don't like people, or compliment them often."

Charlie nodded, "Seriously dude, I'm just worried about your art thing." She looked around at the class, "I mean your competition in terms of the piece is little but that's gonna be tricky."

"Mick is illustrating mine." Bela said.

Charlie sealed a block of rosin back in its box, "And Kevin and I are doing something animated."

Dean shrugged, "I'm not freaking out – yet. I love composing. But as we all know," He gestured around the classroom. "Even my stick figures look like shit. It's sort of worrying me. Especially because I know exactly 4 people in art classes. And you both took the only two I know really well." He fake glared at Charlie and Bela.

They laughed, "Best of luck. Hey, Charlie! Let's run through yours."

Chamber Strings had been mostly independent since Senior year started. Mr. Hamish seemed to just enjoy their presence. And aside from the few weeks they set aside occasionally for school concerts, they worked on composing, composers, and a few other projects.

Their current assignment was strangely exciting. Each student had to pair up with a peer from an art class. The music student would construct and perform the composition, while the artist would create some form of visual piece to accompany it.

Charlie and Bela were right, Dean's composition definitely sat at a high place, but his art feature was lacking – very lacking.

They played through Charlie and Bela's piece, each close to Dean's in terms of advancement. Charlie's was a cheerful concerto with a ¾ time signature in G Major. It involved a lot of complicated slides and shifting. She called it canary – fitting. Bela's was a combination of Dean's mellowness and Charlie's cheer. It began in A Minor, changing to E major halfway through, and increasing the difficulty with a style that resembled fiddling.

The three breezed through that class, saying their goodbyes to Mr. Hamish on the way out. Though there were many options in terms of places to eat lunch, Dean's favorite was the courtyard. Its simple style had always charmed Dean to eating there. Since the room was originally outdoors, a glass ceiling had been built in place in 1972, the floor was made of cracked brick; and places where moss and weeds formerly grew from the crevices were prominent.

Previously, Dean had been assigned to write an essay about the history of his 'most prized place' in the building. The project asked them to include their favorite aspects. Dean's had been the brightly colored banners that unfurled from the ceiling, giving the room a joyful aesthetic.

"What is it today?" Charlie asked, kicking back in her usual purple plastic chair.

"Cheeseburgers!" Dean cheered.

Bela offered her sourest face, "Fake charred flesh on a fake bun. Tasteless Americans, no class." She swung her embroidered lunch bag on the table, retrieving a thermos of hot tea and plastic sandwich container, "Ham, Turkey, Spinach, Tomato, Provolone, Pepperoni, and Colby – slathered in mayo and olive oil. Try me." She smirked.

"Yesterday you had peanut-butter and pear." Kevin stated as he sat down beside her, "We're not competing with much."

Bela rolled her eyes as Dean chuckled, "Burger, lettuce, onion, tomato. American cheese all melty. Beats your fancy bread Oreo any day." He sighed, "That is, if it was a real burger."

Charlie and Kevin laughed as Bela threw her hands up in mock exasperation, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Dean and Charlie got up from their seats and paraded to the lunch line, leaning against the wall as they waited. Eventually they got to their trays, and a gray-haired lunch lady spooned watery corn along with a thin, non-malleable burger onto their paper plates.

They sat back down at their table, now joined by Benny and Jo. Charlie took her seat next to Dorothy and planted a small kiss on her cheek. Dorothy smiled at her.

"So, halfway through Friday. How do you feel?" Benny pointed his camera at Dean's face.

Dean chuckled through a mouthful of burger, "Mm." He swallowed. "Great, thanks."

Benny shrugged, "I've gotta document it, senior year you know."

Dean reached for the camera, "Give it here," he flipped it around in his hands so that the lens pointed towards his face, "Captains log Stardate 7063.7, Lieutenant Lafitte still insists on documenting our _riveting_ routines. I still lack the und-"

"Dean!" Benny gestured to Dorothy and Charlie. Charlie’s head was nestled into Dorothy’s shoulder.

Dean flipped the camera and zoomed closer to their friends, "Damn," he smirked, "this really is the final frontier."

Charlie groaned and playfully punched Dean's bicep. He grinned.

"That'll be great for the video."

"Woah-oh no way are we putting that on there." Jo said frankly, “Girl code. Can’t let a sister down.”

"Oh come on!"

"When you get a girlfriend we can guarantee there's no way you're ever gonna get that camera away from your face. _Ever_." Dorothy retorted, Jo high-fived her from across the table.

Benny shrugged. "Also," he turned to Dean, "do you even know what riveting means?"

"No idea."

The six finished their food, Bela still insisting she didn't know why she hung out with these 'filthy Americans'. Kevin and Charlie were fanning themselves over Game of Thrones and Jo and Benny continued their usual friendly bickering. After Dean's lunch period, he was left with English 7/8 and Metal Working. He split ways with everyone after lunch. Benny and Jo both took Metal-Shop as well, but neither during Dean's period.

Dean threw away his paper tray and said goodbye to his table. He trudged out of the glass doors, making his way up a floor to his locker. He twisted the combination lock, 18-09-37, and rummaged around his backpack for his English 7-8 Binder.

Dean made his way across the hall to room A-07 and leaned against the doorframe as he waited for the doors to open. He drew imaginary circles on the gray brick walls as he hummed, stopping when he noticed someone waiting next to him. A mop of messy dark hair sitting on his head.

"Hey, Cas." Dean said, having felt a sense of social deprivation after sitting all alone in an empty corridor.

"Hello Dean." The blue-eyed boy looked up at him, and suddenly gasped as if he'd just remembered something. He shuffled through his binder, either not noticing or caring about Dean's faint laughter. He finally retrieved a sheet of loose-leaf paper, neatly folded into two sections, and handed it to Dean.

The bell rang as Castiel stood up, and he made his way into the classroom. Dean clutched to the paper in his hands, heart beating quicker as he took his seat. Dean unfolded the paper. It was all done in bright purple pen that began to run out as his doodles reached outside of the margins. In the middle, however, a sketch had been done in black ink. It was a boy, freckles dotting his sharp noise and cheekbones. Dean squinted at the picture, and nearly screeched when he realized it was him. Dean could feel the blush climbing higher onto his face as he carefully refolded the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

[ ](http://ibb.co/cYPYJG)

He looked at the whiteboard, clearing his throat and tapping his pencil. The rest of his peers finally calming down as the teacher entered the room. He sighed, and glanced around the classroom. Hesitating as he realized that Castiel was watching him, a smile on his face.

 

**…**

_Dean spun in his chair. stopping when Charlie was in his line of sight, "This," He spun again, "Is the reason I live."_

_Charlie laughed, spinning around once in her chair as well. Dean stretched his legs as their class began._

_Computer Apps went on, kids typing their essays on clickity old keyboards. Dean was honest to god getting into the history of his school’s courtyard when he stopped. Distracted. Down the aisle of computers, three boys were huddled together snickering about something. Castiel stood over them, desperately reaching for the thing they were holding. Balthazar watched from the side, pleading with them to give it back. Dean stood up, Charlie quirked an eyebrow at him and Dean nodded to her. She sighed and rose behind him._

_He sauntered across the room, dropping to his knees by the three boys. He smiled up at them, "Whatcha got there?" He growled._

_One of the three, Dean believed his name was Zachariah, responded in a hostile tone, "None of your business." He turned away from Dean._

_Dean looked back to Castiel, head buried in his hands, Charlie with a comforting hand on his back. She cleared her throat._

_"Mmm..." Dean hummed, snatching the book from their hands and flipping it in his palms, "I don't think it's any of yours."_

_"Oh come on! Seriously? You're so-"_

_"Nothing, I'm so nothing. And you're a dick." Dean grinned, handing the sketchbook back to Castiel and patting him on the shoulder._

_Zachariah huffed and looked back to his computer. His friends stifling their laughter beside him._

_"Thanks. Dean," Castiel nodded to him, "Sharing my sketchbook is not a thing I do."_

_Dean nodded at him, "You keep doing what you're doing, it's actually really good." He blushed._

_Castiel chuckled, "I try."_

_Dean and Charlie trekked back to their seats, and continued their essays._

 

**…**

"So," Charlie slumped against Dean's beige locker, dented due to his friend's frankly annoying habits of banging the beats of early 2000's songs on its already beaten cover. "Friday night, what are we doing?"

Dean shrugged. Taking his back-pack and swinging it around his shoulders, "Ted & Wally's?"

"Ooo." Charlie moaned.

Dean laughed, "Ah yes, nothing like cold ice cream on a beautiful March evening."

"I mean, it's true for Nebraska."

"Everything's true in Nebraska."

Charlie shrugged, her eyebrows lifting as she accepted his triumph.

"Just us?" She buzzed, "It gets boring every week with just me and you."

"Agreed, sorta. Bela?"

"No she's busy, so are Jo and Kevin. I think Benny's staying late today. And Mick is lactose intolerant."

"He could get the vegan ones." Dean suggested, ushering Charlie along the hallway out of school.

"Mick? And coconut milk? He thinks anything but tea is weird as a liquid, but coconut juice?"

Dean sighed, "It's just us two then."

Charlie and Dean continued, heading out the North wing doors. They made their way to Dean's car and hopped in. The two drove around the Joslyn, finding their way into the heart of the old market. The moved onto Dodge and eventually turned down 24th to Douglas.

Dean smiled at the familiar parking lot of Ted & Wally's. From the faded green trim staining the foundation of the building, to the various colorful advertisements taped to the clouded windows. Including the few Apollon Community theater posters Charlie's friend had asked them to hang up around downtown. Dean and Charlie had spent a lot of time downtown, and a lot more time eating ice cream.

 They pushed through the doors, lining up behind a few other high school kids and one family of four.

"I want to branch out Charles," Dean said, "I get maple bacon or peanut-butter every time. It's senior year!"

Charlie giggled, "Try the Taro, it's good I swear."

"Okay I'm not talking ' _yoga freak who wears lavender-honey-scrub and listens to obscure indie bands_ ' kind of branching out."

"You think that's new age? I'm taking you to get boba."

"Nuh-uh," Dean shook his head, "No way. Sam loves that stuff. The balls hurt my stomach, and the chewiness makes me feel sick."

Charlie sigh-laughed, stepping closer to the counter and pointing to the menu. Asking the girl behind the counter for a chocolate covered waffle cone. One scoop bubblegum, one scoop Chocolate, one scoop birthday cake. The cashier turned away, her pierced eyebrows raised in exasperation, she flipped the purple fringe away from her eyes and stepped to the glass ice cream case.

Charlie took the cone and looked to Dean, her lips parted in an excited "O" shape. Dean stepped up next, requesting for a waffle cone with two scoops peanut-butter chocolate, one vanilla.

They took their usual seats by the window. They leaned back in the brightly colored booths and licked their cones.

"I've gotta admit," Dean said, "your ice cream combinations are really weird. I mean, I've kept quiet about it since first grade. But when the girl with a purple pixie cut working an actual ice cream store thinks so? You know something's up."

Charlie shrugged, "Anything interesting today? She asked, a drip of bright pink liquid rolling down her chin. Dean grabbed a napkin and handed it to her.

"No," He began, "Actually, yeah."

"Oo! Tell! Tell!" She ushered, wiping the ice cream from her face.

Dean patted his pocket, reaching inside and retrieving a piece of slightly crumpled notebook paper. "Cas gave this to me."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking as she opened the note.

"Aww!" She squealed, "This is adorable!"

Dean groaned.

"Did you see this?" She jabbed the paper in front of his eyes and pointed to a few words Dean hadn't seen before. They read almost illegibly, Cas's i's slashed instead of dotted and his t's messily crossed. Cas's g's and were so loopy that they made Dean dizzy. And he thought normal reading gave him a headache. But at least Charlie could read it, barely.

_'how's your composition? gorgeous, i presume.'_

Dean had forgotten that the project counted as double summative for both art and music students, he grinned, taking a lick of his ice cream, "I think I may have found my partner."

"Oh I hope you have. Cas is kind of dreamy. In a mysterious Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic kind of way."

"You're a lesbian."

Charlie raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Oh, that's not me talking."

Dean licked his ice cream, "I mean, You’re right."

They finished their ice cream as they made light conversation, coming to an agreement that the two should probably get their weekly hangout in then. Charlie texted her mom in Dean's car, giving him a thumbs up as they turned onto 47th.

They hopped out of the Impala. Dean patted her hood and smiled. Charlie rolled her eyes as Dean muttered something about her mileage. They trudged to the door, Sam just hopping off the bus on their way in.

"Dean! Charlie!" He skipped to them, hugging them both and yelling about something that happened on the bus.

Dean rustled his brother's hair and stepped inside, Charlie and Sam following close behind.

“Mom!” Dean shouted, tugging his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the floor.

“Hey!” she yelled back, a tray of slightly burnt cookies in her arms. Her eyes watered due to the thin layer of smoke clouding the air.

“Charlie’s sleeping over.” He said, pulling her in for a side hug and grabbing a cookie off the tray as he stepped to the fridge.

“I figured... Oh and those are hot.” She smirked as Dean took a bite, not registering what she’d said. He spat it back out, scrambling to open his orange colored sports drink.

“Geez! Mom!”

Mary giggled, patting him on the back, “You'd think after 18 years.” Dean shushed her.

Charlie and Sam stepped into the kitchen. Mary offered each of them a cookie. Sam grabbed 3 and rushed to pour a glass of milk. Charlie raised her hands in defense, kindly expressing to Ms. Winchester that she had already had 3 scoops of extremely sugary and artificially colored ice cream.

Dean gasped for air as he gulped the last of his Gatorade, "Dehydration and burnt cookies, great combo." He coughed.

Dean and Charlie escaped to the living room, Dean reached for the remote and turned the TV on, loading Netflix.

"Remember I have work tonight! I'm leaving in a few." Mary called from the kitchen. Turning off the faucet as she spoke, "No parties. And Sam, you can bring a friend over if you'd like."

"No parties!" Dean yelled back, "what kind of pizza do you want Sam?"

"Hamburger, and I'm good but thanks, mom."

"Be good."

Dean went back to browsing categories as Charlie ran up the stairs, returning with a few blankets.

"Rom-com?" She asked.

"Haven't we seen all of them?"

"Hulu?"

Dean sighed, switching off Netflix.

 

**…**

_Dean leaned to the side, skimming through the paper his peer was currently writing. Their assignment was to write a 3,000-word essay analyzing subtext and foreshadowing in the modern media. However, his shoulder partner had instead elected to write a paper on the importance of Netflix in the modern student’s life. Dean had applauded him._

_"You know Cas," Dean tapped the boy's rosy cheek with his pencil's eraser, "This could double as your science project if you faked some data."_

_"Ah, I acknowledge your proposal. But you see, I actually enjoy science."_

_Dean nodded at him, "I know you do. Bill Nye."_

_"By the way," He set his pencil down, "when did you start calling me Cas?"_

_Dean blushed._

_Cas's eyes widened, he waved his hands in the air. "No, I like it! Castiel is boring. Castiel sounds like I'm some... prince? I'm far from a prince."_

_"Hmm," Dean hummed, "I would have to disagree."_

_The boy's blue eyes widened, farther, Jesus how big could his eyes get? "I don't think it's very wise to flirt with royalty."_

_"Screw wisdom."_

_Cas smiled, and turned back to his paper._


	2. C. II

  [](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Dean had promised to take Charlie home, his mistake. She was _always_ moody in the morning. They left the nest at about 9:40, bringing Sam with as they were stopping for breakfast along the way. Dean had lessons at 11, so naturally the back of the impala was almost completely taken over by his stay at home cello. He had two, one of which he left at school, and one of which he kept at home. Dean hadn't needed to pay for either, as the worn, deep coffee colored 'stay-at-home' instrument was originally his Grandma Deana's. And he borrowed the other from OPS.

They pulled through McDonalds, Charlie asked for a smoothie, and Sam begged Dean for pancakes. Dean settled for a large coffee. After he and Sam dropped Charlie off, his next act of business was making it to lessons on time.

He did, barely, as always. And Sam of course came in with him, running off to Claire's room immediately. Leaving Dean to haul his cello out of the back seat.

Dean nodded to his instructor. "Dean!" Jody stepped forward through a pile of sheet music and lesson books, wrapping him in a hug. "Long time no see."

He smiled sarcastically. "It's been a full two days."

She laughed, "so, your composition?"

"Done, I think." He pulled a binder out of his cello case and handed it to Jody.

She glanced it over, shoving it back into his hands and asking him to play.

Dean sighed and grabbed his instrument, sitting in his usual seat and beginning his piece.

He played it through, looking to Jody afterwards for approval.

"Argh!" She yelled, "I love it! Your posture is maybe slipping a bit, but Dean! Who's doing the art?"

"Castiel Novak, I think."

"Oh, he's talented. Claire's old babysitter. And I know his mom."          

And they continued their lesson. Dean thought back to his first. He was six years old, just picking up a cello for the first time. He had no desire to, no motivation (for anything really). But when he was little, before his father seemed to have wrecked any chance he’d ever had at a successful life, he wanted to be a firefighter. Cello was far from firefighting.

Sammy was two. He stayed with Mary at work. But she would've done anything to get Dean out, to keep him away from his father, and his habits. So, he was driven to Jody's, a family friend. His mom told him he was going to learn to ‘play like the angels.’ So, he was pushed through the doorway, Jody kneeled in front of him. Her sad, smiling face close to his wet, tear streaked one. And she wrapped him in a hug.

3 times a week every week he'd find himself on that doorstep, through the times he found his mother crying in her bedroom, through his father's alcohol binges. He was there through their split. And he was there on Sammy's first day of pre-school.

From pizza wrist to avoiding a rock-stop altogether, he was there. Sometimes Sam was too, in those cases he sat in Claire's room and played with action figures. Once they hit 11 they were finally allowed to play outside unsupervised.

They finished the lesson, Dean had almost reached the point where Jody couldn’t teach him anymore. It didn’t matter much, he’d still visit three times a week. So, Dean tore Sam away from his and Claire’s seemingly hilarious backyard conversation and drove him home.

Dean headed back out after making sure Sam would be okay on his own, play video games or something. He found himself driving down a long street, lush green oak trees and old, charming, brick tutor houses. He circled for a while, just enjoying the warm spring air. The sun almost overhead. Each house was different, some with steep dark rooves and others with dome shaped stone ones, but each fit together in some way.

Yet there was one, it was the same in terms of looks, but the white fence and brick siding were painted a sundog of different colors, and the great oak tree out front was wrapped in ribbon. Different multi-colored bottles of all sorts glinted from the branches. A boy laid facing the sky by its base. But he lifted his head to squint at Dean.

Dean froze, slowing his already slow-cruising vehicle, to almost a complete stop, “Cas?”

“Dean?”

“You live here?” He yelled from his window.

“That I do?” He stood up, “You live around here?”

“I’m just driving around.” Dean shifted the car into reverse and pulled to the curb, twisting the key and stepping out of his car.

“It’s-“

“Crazy? I get that a lot.” Cas kicked a piece of gravel into the street.

“No, It’s amazing. D-Did you, do it?”

“My mother and I, yes.”

Dean chuckled, “I see where you get your artistic abilities from.” 

Cas laughed back, uncomfortably.

“Say about that project…” Dean suggested.

Cas grinned, “I’d be honored to work with you, Winchester.”

“Sounds great, Your Highness.” Dean felt himself physically cringe, but he smiled anyway, and the other boy laughed.

 “So…”

“Do you want to…”

“Smoothies?” Cas finally asked.

Dean nodded as he exhaled in relief.

“There’s a place down the street.” Cas gestured.

So, they sauntered away from Cas’s house. Dean stealing another glance at the vibrant paintings, _Someday_ , he thought, _I’ll get a closer look_.

They marched side by side, the silence almost uncomfortable, but not quite. It was a beautiful day for March, maybe 68 degrees out. The breeze was perfect. Just strong enough to blow Cas’s soft curls around on his forehead. Dean swooned, again.

Cas caught Dean’s stare. And beamed up at him. They resumed their walk, now turning downhill, there was a frozen yogurt place in his view.

Dean held the door to _Red Mango,_ letting Cas through with a bow. It was tiny, a row of weird looking ice cream machines lined the back wall and there was a counter full of bowls and bowls of various toppings. Cas went straight to the counter, leaning on it and requesting a kiwi-strawberry smoothie. Dean took a moment to glance over the menu-board, sighing as he asked the clerk for a peanut-butter banana one.

The small-framed woman smiled at them and went to the blender. They waited in silence for a moment till she handed them each their drinks. Dean and Cas took their seats at a tiny white table, red bean-shaped plastic chairs sitting oddly low to the ground.

“Kiwi-strawberry?” Dean pressed, taking a sip of his smoothie.

“The best, you can try it if you’d like.” Cas struggled to suck the thick liquid through the straw.

Dean chortled, “No. It’s good. I have a serious problem with peanut butter, it’s gotta be in everything I eat.”

Cas tapped nervously on the tabletop, Dean resisting the urge to place his own hand over the other boys to calm him.

“I’m not the best at these kinds of things.” Cas admitted, setting his smoothie down on the table after finally getting his sip.

“I try.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, he brought his arm down. Sliding it across the table, unconsciously knocked Cas’s smoothie into his lap.

“Jesus-Fu… Christ I’m so sorry.” Dean quickly jumped up from his seat. Cas sat there, full 16-ounce fruit blend in his lap. Dean ran to get napkins, returning to find Cas still there, only laughing. His head thrown back, Dean smiled, and laughed too.

“It’s completely fine.” He said as he gasped for air, still laughing uncontrollably.

“I’ve gotta admit, that’s never something I’ve done before.”

Dean helped Castiel by grabbing a few more napkins, helping him dry spots on his shirt. Cas handled his own pants. Dean embarrassingly left an extra tip for the clerk and said his apologies, meeting Cas leaned against the outside of the building.

“You can have this.” Dean offered his smoothie to Cas.

Cas shook his head, “Peanut allergy.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “Jesus I really can’t get it right can I?”

Cas chuckled, “It’s fine. Hey there’s a park just over there,” He pointed down the street, “Do you want to go?”

Dean shrugged, “Of course.”

They ambled together, this time through pauses of laughter and dramatic hand reenactments of the event. And eventually arrived at a small playground, 3 or 4 children playing in the sand, or on the various neon colored pieces of playground equipment.

They settled for two plastic swings that blew slightly in the warm breeze and took their places. Cas immediately kicking off the ground and moving his legs through the air. Dean following shortly after.

They spoke about school and their project. On one occasion, they debated the difference between jam and jelly, which Cas surprisingly knew a lot about. But it passed the time, and soon enough the sun was setting.

They laid together in the grass, under a tall maple tree. Dean’s long empty smoothie cup a foot or two away, waiting to be recycled.

“This was…”

“Fun.” Dean looked to Cas, turning onto his side, head resting in his hand.

“Although my pants are extremely sticky.” Cas sat up, the marks where his face had flattened the grass were red.

“Sorry about that again.”

“No, it was a great experience.”

“You know, one time my little brother Sammy spilled Dairy Queen all over himself. Don’t listen to them about the whole upside-down thing.”

Cas laughed, “Noted.”

Dean looked back at the sky, all sorts of colors Cas would know the real names of painted the clouds. Cas’s eyes glittered in the setting sun, if Dean were a poet instead of a cellist he’d write some inspiring haiku about the color blue.

x[](http://ibb.co/hSM0DG)

 

_“Where’s your crown?  Your highness.” Dean teased as he bumped Cas’s against his._

_“Somewhere, I have yet to find it.” Cas said, armful of various books._

_“Returning to the library?”_

_“That I am. Would you care to escort me?”_

_“Not at all.” Dean grinned as he slung an arm around Cas’s shoulders. More-than-half nervous at how he would react negativley to the sudden contact._

_They continued walking, Dean mentally sighed in relief that Cas hadn’t minded._

_“I don’t think I’ve actually ever been to the library. Reading isn’t my thing.” Dean admitted, looking to the boy beside him. His hair dark and messy, as if he’d rolled out of bed and decided to go with it. A chaotic-good. He wore a white loose-fitting button down, it felt soft under Dean’s touch. And his pants were simple light blue jeans. Tight around the calves and thighs, but rolled up at the ankle. A tweed colored jacket was tied around his waist, clearly abandoned since the school was heated to 79 degrees, only needed for the harsh January weather outside._

_“You’re missing out.” He chirped._

_“It’s not my scene,” Cas quirked a curious eyebrow, “I mean I’m more of a ‘mechanic dude who listens to led zeppelin but also plays the cello and loves Vivaldi.’ It’s a metaphor for my bisexuality. Plus it’s… hard.”_

_“Manly,” Cas cleared his throat, “I think my obsession with art, poetry, and obscure indie bands is representative entirely of my gay-ness.”_

_Dean laughed, “For sure.”_

“Why did we stop talking?” Dean asked, brushing a few blades of stray grass from his chest.

“Junior year stress,” Cas suggested, turning away. “I’m glad you were watching me draw, you know?”

Dean laughed, “That sentence is… a little weird.”

Cas laughed with him, “I’m aware. But I missed talking to you.” His cheeks scrunched up when he smiled, and his eyebrows knitted slightly together. He always looked slightly confused.

“I missed you too.”

Dean patted his pocket for his phone, he touched the power button and glanced at the time.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s almost seven.”

“Shit.”

Dean stood up, offering Cas his hand. He took it and pulled himself up. Wobbling a little. “Let’s hurry.” He says, still holding onto Dean’s hand as he led him back to his house.

The walk back would have been even more gorgeous, if Dean wasn’t so focused on getting home. Or Cas’s soft hand in his own. The tiny brick houses basked in a perfect evening light, so when they finally reached Cas’s home, the paneling looked even more mesmerizing.

“Oh.” Dean whispered. The paintings glowed in the orange sun, the previously impressive abstract depictions of flowers and natural wonders now like something out of a movie.

“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it. I don’t like to take credit but- “

“No, you should. It’s… amazing.” Dean said, reluctantly letting go of Cas’s hand to look for his car keys.

He unlocked the Impala. Refraining from getting in just yet.

“Thank you. For spending the day with me.” Dean looked down at his feet.

“Thank _you_ ,” Cas grinned. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Dean nodded, stepping into his car and twisting the key in the ignition. He waved goodbye to Cas on his way down the ever-darkening street.

…

_Dean shuffled down the hallway, groaning as he was bumped back and forth. His head throbbed with each nudge._

_He slumped against the locker next to Cas’. “I’m hungover.”_

_Castiel looked at him, Dean smiled. He blinked, his lip trembled. He shut his locker and turned around. Cas stepped into the crowd of students, and walked away_


	3. C. III

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Dean’s Sunday was uneventful. He and Sam made pancakes in the morning, and afterwards they both rode with their mom to help at work changing tires and oil. It foreshadowed a boring week, which mostly consisted of study guides and little smiles he received from Cas in the hallway.

Charlie slumped against his locker, it was Wednesday afternoon. Just before ninth hour, “You’re coming.”

“To?” Dean asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching a group of girls pass around a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

“The camping trip.”

Dean rolled his eyes, he had decided not to go junior year. He didn’t know when the tradition had been created, but each year, the last weekend in April was spent in Niobrara. The seniors would head up after school Friday, spending the 3-hour trip in a caravan of sorts. They’d stop once or twice on the way for beer and beef jerky. But the week afterwards they’d come back to school yelling at each other or about something that had happened.

“Not my scene.”

“Your scene entirely,” Charlie offered a sarcastic expression, “girls, and boys, booze, fishing, campfires, driving, lots of driving. How is that not your scene?”

“Mmm,” Dean rested his head against his locker, “annoying juniors who feel the need to tag along.”

“There’ll be like three of them!” She rolled her eyes, “Come on! I’m not going alone, besides who do you hate so much in the Junior class?”

“First of all you have Jo, Benny, Kevin, Mick, and Bela. I bet they’re all going. Second, Meg Masters. Meg-Fucking-Masters.” He gritted his teeth.

 Charlie clenched her teeth, “Oh, yeah… And she’s going for sure. If Cas is there, she is too.”

 Dean stopped, “Cas is going?”

 Charlie smirked, but turned to hide it, “Of course.”

 Dean sighed, “I’ll think about it.

 That’s how Dean found himself sitting in the kitchen a week later. The windows open just slightly, letting through a soft morning breeze.

 His mom sat before him. She set two mugs of black coffee on the table, “What’s up?” She asked.

Dean tested the coffee. He put it down after he’d taken a sip; making a sour face due to his now stinging tongue. “There’s this school camping trip…”

“Oh boy.” Mary said. She set her coffee down on the table, then she lifted it slightly to examine the dark ring it had left. Her eyes narrowed slightly when she looked back to him.

“It’s next week, Charlie’s going. We’d leave Friday night.”

“Where is it?”

“Niobrara,” Dean tried his coffee again, bad idea. “Lewis and Clark state park.”

 “We’ve been, with your father. Haven’t we?” She pushed a lock of blond hair behind her ear.

Dean nodded. Moving to place a hand over his mothers, she grabbed his instead. She looked over his face, a loving slime turning the corners of her lips. “You can go Dean. Of course you can,” She pulled her hand away and laughed, “No booze.”

“No promises.” Dean smirked.

Mary sighed, “Seniors, they’re 18 and all the sudden they think they’re adults. You can’t drink till 21 in Nebraska.”

Dean groaned.

“Fine,” Mary winked, “But only because beer has a low alcohol content, and I trust you won’t drink more than one the whole trip.”

Two days later he was groaning at Charlie’s goddamn cackling. She was in the lunchroom, laughing because she’d made a bet that Dean would end up going.

And 3 days after that he was tossing a duffel bag in the back of his Impala, “Is this why you wanted me to come? So you’d have a ride?”

Charlie smirked, “Partially. Oh and also, you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he mentally checked off his list of supplies.

“Sleeping bag?”

“Check.”

“Road snacks?”

“Bingo.”

“Water.”

“Mhm.”

“Flashlight, charger, batteries?”

“Gotcha.”

“I think we’re good.” Charlie did a final once-over of the trunk.

Dean ran inside to give a hug to Sam and his mother. She gave him the iconic ‘before-anything-fun’ speech and Sam asked for a cool rock or two. Dean leaned back in the Impala, “Well?”

“Let’s go.”

Charlie loaded Google Maps on her phone, searching for directions. “Rural Nebraska here we come.”

They passed at least eight different cars carrying a group of kids he recognized from school. Apparently, Bela and Kevin were driving together. Benny and Jo were as well. Dean asked Charlie why she and Dorothy didn’t carpool, apparently, she was driving with Mick.

 _“Dorothy on a road trip is equivalent to a fucking baby at 5 pm. She cannot stay awake and I’m left to listen to podcasts all by myself.”_ She raved, Dean had chuckled.

They were nearing the edge of Omaha, crossing over a copper green bridge overlooking the Missouri river. Charlie had a thing about rolling the windows down when they passed over water.

Dean had to admit that it was beautiful. The sun slowly retreating behind soft hills sticking from fields of corn and soybeans. He hoped Cas was seeing it too, and that he’d paint it someday.

“So where do we go from here? We’re in Council Bluffs now.” Dean asked.

“I’m talking to Mick, he went last year with Timothy, remember?”

Dean inhaled through his teeth, “Ouch… That relationship did not end well.”

“Yeah, anyway apparently, everyone drives till we can head into West Point. Then we stop for gas, restrooms, snacks, etc.”

“So Onawa?”

“Yeah, then we backtrack. It’s like an hour from now.” Charlie switched off of her texting app.

Dean nodded, “You,” Charlie chimed, “Are so lucky I made you install Bluetooth.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “No way, Nuh-uh.” He reached over and grappled for Charlie’s phone.

She laughed, “Eyes on the road!”

Dean sighed, “Driver picks the music, shotgun tells me interesting stories to keep my eyes open.”

Charlie groaned, “You’re just gonna listen to Led Zeppelin!”

“Fine, but I’m choosing music on the way back.”

Charlie smirked, happy with her victory.

The clock of the Impala read 5:47. Which meant they had at least three hours till dark, and three hours till Niobrara.

“Oreos there are like five dollars up there.” Dean said, reaching to turn down Charlie’s music. ‘Monster’ by Mumford and Sons dancing through the speakers.

Charlie yelped, “You’re joking!”

Dean shook his head. He hid his laughter, “It’s worth it though.”

A few RVs and a Honda or two drove down the highway, to Sioux City, Dean assumed. He checked the gas meter. Half a tank would get them to West Point, and they were a bit over.

Dean thought back to his last trip down I-29. His mother, Sam, and Dean coasting down the interstate on fumes. Mary stomped a few times, cursing at herself for not refilling the tank sooner, when the car came to a bumpy stop.

They walked for about half an hour to a tiny locally-owned gas station. Sam dashed to a glass case along the wall, grappling for a chocolate milk. Dean had trudged to the water fountain in back, guzzling as much of the tin-tasting liquidn9ol;\ as he could take. Mary walked to the counter, plopping a case of beer down.

 The man quirked his eyebrows, _"Sheesh,_ " he huffed, " _Rough day?"_ He rang up their items.

" _Car broke down_." Mary slumped against the counter.

He sighed, adjusting the green baseball cap on his head, " _Just take 'em_ ," He stepped out from behind the counter, shaking Mary's hand. " _I'm Bobby_."

" _Mary. These are my sons_." She gestured to Sam and Dean wrestling by a rotating wire stand packed with various bagged cookies. " _Sam and Dean._ "

So, Bobby drove them to where the Impala sat broken down on the side of the road. Dean promised himself he'd call later.

Charlie cheered as they passed a sign advertising one of Westpoint's very few attractions.

Dean could probably drive through the entire town in 5 minutes, main street practically _was_ the entire town. Aside from a couple of run-down diners and a Casey’s, there wasn’t much to look at. Dean decided that the quaint restaurant with 19 or-so cars parked in front of it was probably their destination.

Charlie raised her arms to the sky as she stepped out of the car, stretching back and sighing. Dean yawned. “Here we are.”

Charlie grinned, “Food.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and followed Charlie inside. Groups of his peers were scattered around tables. They were mostly seniors, but he recognized a couple of juniors. Mick waved at them from a booth in the back, as Jo and Dorothy cheered their names. Charlie ran to her girlfriend and Dean scanned the room. His eyes finally stopped on an empty spot next to Lisa Braeden. A strawberry milkshake sat on the table in front of it. Lisa, Balthazar, Anna, Benjamin, and Cas stuck together. And Cas was the only one missing. Dean reluctantly sat down by Kevin, who was sketching something on a napkin. He smiled when he saw Dean.

“How were your drives?” Mick nodded his head.

“Dude,” Benny’s eyes widened, “I think some guy was trying to race me.”

“Dude! Did you go for it?” Dean asked excitedly.

Jo rolled her eyes, ‘I’m so lucky he didn’t.”

“Shut your mouth.”

She laughed.

“Mick insisted on telling me about the British countryside the whole way. Not that it wasn’t cool and all. No offense, but America just does countryside better.”

Bela scoffed, “Have you seen the outskirts of Dartmoor?”

“Yes. I’ve showed Dorothy Sherlock.” Charlie said.

Bela rolled her eyes, “No I mean-“

“He showed me pictures too. I mean come on!” She looked to Mick, his eyes widened guiltily, “You’re the one driving! That’s a hazard!”

“My homeland called!”

“Hey!” Charlie wrapped her arm around Dorothy’s shoulders, kissing her on the cheek. “Are you endangering my girlfriend?”

Mick sighed, looking to Bela. “We can’t win.”

She shook her head, “Americans have always been so stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking.” Kevin interjected, Bela rustled his hair.

Dean skimmed over the laminated menu in his hands, deciding that the Swiss mushroom burger may be worth his time. He grinned at the waitress as she took his menu. Dean looked over his shoulder, glancing back to Lisa’s table. Castiel was sipping on that strawberry milkshake, cute as ever. Dean sighed in relief.

Charlie clapped excitedly as their two burgers and Pepsi were set on the table in front of them. Dean wasted no time, grabbing a fry and making his way to Castiel. His friends stopped their conversation hastily, watching him, confused.

Dean sat down in the chair in front of Cas, making sure he turned it so he could rest his arms across the top of it. It really got people swooning when he acted all cute like that, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. He dipped a fry in Cas’s milkshake and chewed.

Cas grinned, “Hey.”

“Hey. So, how was your drive?”

He quirked his brow, “Not over yet.”

Dean sighed, “Remind me to ask that later, your highness.”

Cas grinned, wider. This was starting to become a pattern. Dean tried to ignore Cas’s friends stealing curious glances at him as they engaged in fake conversation.

“You’re not going to spill this in my lap, are you? Should I move it away from you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Asshole.”

With every visible increase in Cas’s happiness, Dean could feel his heart pounding quicker.

“Let me eat, I’ll see you at the campfire later tonight.”

“I ain’t waiting that long! That’s ridiculous!”

Cas chuckled, shooing him.

Dean attempted to hide his grin as he walked back to his table. His seven friends stared at him in silence.

Mick cleared his throat. And Jo began to wiggle her eyebrows.

“You dudes should’ve seen the note Dean got from him the other day. They’re so cute.”

Dorothy cooed. While Mick, Jo, and Benny continued their eyebrow dances. Kevin nodded at him, “You’ve done well, young padawan.”

Bela watched Dean’s face, an unmoving expression painting her features. Charlie looked at her and widened her eyes. Bela shook her head, and ‘Aw-ed’ along with Dorothy. Weird.

“What the hell does that even mean, Kevin?” We’re not dating.”

“Yet.” Charlie assured the group.

Dean sat, taking a defeated bite of his burger. They were back on the road soon enough, Charlie rambled on about some TV show, occasionally stopping to yell along to a song that was blaring through his speakers.  And Dean didn’t even ask for Zepplin.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 [](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Dean grinned at the woman leaning through the kiosk window. She waved to them, wispy brown hair falling over her eyes. Her face was wrinkled and tanned.

“A day pass is six dollars. It’s 28 for a week.”

Charlie shoved a 20 at Dean, flipping through her wallet for a few ones. Dean handed her the money. She smiled at them, “Be safe.”

Dean drove past the kiosk, he navigated the hills. They stopped at a gazebo atop one of the many grassy hills. Metal plaques were embedded in the wood, some showed pictures and others were excerpts from William Clark’s journal.

“Damn, this guy could not spell. I think it may be worse than mine.” Dean muttered.

“Tell me about it. Seriously? Dificuelty?” Charlie laughed.

**…**

_“Really Dean? You think that’s how you spell refrigerator?” Cas laughed._

_Dean stared at his paper, honestly wondering what he did wrong._

_“It’s r-e-f-r-i-g-e-r-a-t-o-r. Not ‘refridgeerater’.”_

_“Well who the hell decided that? Thomas Jefferson wouldn’t know how to spell refrigerator.”_

_\“That’s because they didn’t exsist.” Castiel sat down next to him, “That’s the whole point of this project. We’re supposed to tell Mr. Tucker how a modern invention like the refrigerator would have affected civilizations in a certain time period.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. I just miss my cello.” Dean looked back down at the paper, massaging his temples in a circular motion._

_Castiel stared at him. Eyes piercing, yet warm. “Do they confuse you a lot?”_

_“What?”_

_"Words. Do they confuse you often?”_

_Dean begun to shake his head, but then nodded._

_“I’m good, man.” Dean turned back to the project. He tapped the tabletop with his pencil. “I just can’t spell. And English is hard. So is math.” He sighed, “I hate academics.”_

_"This is stressing you out.” Cas grabbed the papers and snapped them into his binder. “Let’s do something else.” He stood up and walked towards one of the many shelves of books._

_Dean followed close behind Cas, running his hands along the book’s spines. Cas stopped and kneeled. “Have you read any Shakespeare?”_

_Dean snorted. Cas stared up at him. “Oh you’re serious. I told you, I hate reading. It’s boring.”_

_“What about the stuff we’re assigned? There are programs like audible, you know.”_

_"I just make Sam read it and tell me what it’s about.”_

_Cas sighed, “Sit down. I’ll read to you. This is Midsummer Night’s Dream.”_

…

“Hey Charlie?”

Charlie poked her head out from behind a pillar supporting the gazebo.

“We should look for a campsite.”

She nodded.

They drove around the area for quite some time, cruising over the tall hills. They passed a few interesting buildings, along with an outdoor swimming pool. Each designated camping spot sported a wooden gazebo and a grassy patch for a tent, along with a fire pit.

“I think that may be our destination.” Charlie pointed at a group of excited looking teenagers. Eight or nine tents were spread across two lots.

“Yeah, for sure.”

Charlie jumped out of the Impala as soon as it stopped, rushing over to Dorothy. Dean stared outwards, to the dark swirl where the Missouri met the Niobrara. Sandy islands dotted the water, and the long bridge crossing over to South Dakota was in clear view. He waved to Charlie and started the trek down the hill, kicking up loose pieces of asphalt on his way to the beach.

He sat himself on the sand, untying his shoes and sticking his feet in the water. Minnows darted away as his toes kicked up clouds of mud.

He had made it to the end of senior year. Where Dean would go after? No idea. _Jacobs School of Music_ was most likely a no-go, even though he applied. He’d settle for UNO, Dean had a life in Omaha anyway. He could stay there, work at the Grease Monkey with his mother.

“Dean?” Dean turned around.

“I thought we were waiting for the campfire.”

“You looked so lonely.” Cas sat down next to him, his shoes were already off.

Dean looked up at the sky, colors beginning to change to shades of pink and orange. The soft rush of the river lulled him to a trance. Cas splashed his feet in the water.

“You walked away from me. That day. When I was hungover. The last day we talked before,” He spread his arms out, gesturing to their surroundings. “All of this, the project.”

Cas attempted to poke the minnows that dared swim past them with his toes.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“If I told you – things wouldn’t be the same.” Cas nearly whispered to him.

Dean fixed his stare on a blue crawfish creeping over a nearby rock. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes.”

Dean’s voice was shaky, small. “Physically?”

“No. God no. Dean I know you would never.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean said.

Cas smiled at him, “I know.”

Dean looked back out at the water, the sun’s reflection painted the river in magenta hues. Cas kicked his foot out, splashing Dean’s leg. He kicked back.

“So that’s where this is going.” Cas chuckled. He pulled his shirt off over his head, Dean looked away.

When he looked back, Castiel was submerged in the water right up to his nose. “You got used to that quickly.” Dean laughed, taking his shirt off and standing up. He began slowly wading in.

“Oh come on! It isn’t that cold.” Cas skimmed his arm over the top of the water, sending a wave over to Dean, soaking his already half soaked shorts.

Dean yelped, “You’re so toast, Novak.”

Cas laughed as he ducked underwater. Dean waded farther in, jumping in as he reached the drop-off. Castiel’s head popped out of the water a few feet ahead of him.

By the time they were done battling Dean’s shorts were covered in sand, and his thighs were chafing against the denim. Cas laid back in the water, arms spread like he was unfurling a pair of wings. They had found a place where they could float, where the current stopped. Dean sat in the water, dripping handfuls of sand on a rock to make a tower.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the hill.

“Should we head back?” Dean asked.

“Probably.” Cas sat up in the water. “I assume they’ll have the fire going. And I still don’t have my tent set up.”

“Me either.”

By the time they gathered their clothes and returned to the campsites, the sun had set. Kids sat in groups by the fire, Dean saw his friends, and waved. A few of them were sitting under the gazebo playing a board game, and most of them were at least tipsy. Cas gestured to a spot some distance away from the fire, and they sat.

“You know – the farther from the light source we are – the brighter the stars.”

Cas hummed, “Nice try.”

Dean sighed.

            “But that was fun.”

            “Yeah, it was.”

            The stars were the brightest Dean had ever seen. Well, remembered. They twinkled in milky clouds as far as he could see.

            Castiel broke the silence after a moment or two, “I love this.”

            “Me too. But I gotta pitch my tent.”

            “I do as well.”

Dean reluctantly rose from his spot on the ground, brushing off the blades of grass from his pants. He trudged to his car, popping the trunk and heaving the dark green tent bag over his shoulder.

There was a trail leading away from the fire, down a small slope. It was surrounded by Cedar trees, the ones that smelled like candy when you burned them. Dean switched on his phone flashlight. He assembled the tent as best he could and hiked back up to the party.

Across the road, Castiel was struggling with his tent.

            “Need any help?” Dean laughed as Cas swatted something away from his face, dropping the tent spokes in the process.

            “Possibly.” He slumped forward.

            “Well, first of all,” Dean kneeled next to Cas, “You picked a real shitty spot for your tent.”

            “But it’s flat.’

            “Yeah, but would you enjoy rocks poking at your back the whole night.”

            Cas opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. His eyebrows drawing together as he frowned. Dean smirked.

            “Let me show you.” Dean surveyed the area, pointing to a grassy patch a few feet away. “See how that spot over there is grassy and flat?”

            Cas nodded.

            “Let’s set up there.”

Dean pointed out the mistakes Cas made as he stood above. Cas pushed the spokes into the ground, looping the tent’s holes around them. Once he finished, Dean did a final once over, fixing a couple spokes on the way. He helped Cas spread out the rain cover over the mesh top.

Castiel stood in front of him, Dean fidgeted with a loose piece of red thread he’d pulled from a seam on Castiel’s tent as he stared into the other boy’s eyes.

            “Well.” Dean rocked back and forth on his feet. “Goodnight.”

Cas stepped closer to him.

He leaned in.

And wrapped his arms around Dean.

            He stepped back, coughing awkwardly. “Goodnight.” Cas grumbled.

Dean smiled as he unzipped the tent door. Though Castiel wasn’t much for parties, Dean was. So he walked back to the group, grabbing a red solo cup off of the picnic table. He started on his way to where Charlie and Dorothy sat, They waved at him.

            “Hey.” Dean huffed as he sat down next to them.

            Charlie raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Where were you this whole time.

            Dorothy scooted forward, leaning on Dean’s arm, “Hmm?”

            Dean laughed, “I was swimming.”

            “Can’t be much fun by yourself.” Dorothy said.

            Dean sighed as she nudged him.

            “You were off with Cas. Weren’t you?” Charlie asked.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

            They laughed.

            “Oh he w- Shit.” Charlie looked at Dorothy, she raised her eyebrows. Charlie raised hers, and Dorothy’s eyes widened.

            Lisa Braeden sat down next to Dean, practically in his lap.

            She curled around his arm.

            “Uhm.” Dean shook his arm, but she held on. “Hey?”

            She slurred out a ‘hey’ back.

            “She’s doing the text thing in real life.” Charlie whispered to him.

            Dean shook his arm again. But Lisa continued to stroke his bicep with her thumb.

            “Could you maybe… Get off?” Lisa pouted, detaching herself from Dean’s arm. She leaned forward to kiss him, but Dean pulled back.

            “What the hell Lisa?”

            “I thought we were gonna – you know.” She stammered, her face red. Dean couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed, or because of the beer.

            Dean stood up, abandoning his beer. “You thought wrong.”

            Charlie crawled over to Lisa, helping her up.

            Dean hurried down the slope to his tent, unzipping it and falling back against his sleeping bag.

            He kicked off his shoes and pants, finding a pair of pajama pants (old cotton sweatpants) in the mesh pouch hanging from the side of the tent, and pulled them on.

            His tent unzipped, and Bela stepped in, barefooted.

            “Hi.” She layed down next to him.

            “Hey.” Dean wiggled to the side.

            “Dean, I’m not some promiscuous feline like drunk Lisa. I don’t even like sex, I’m asexual. And gay.”

            Dean laughed, “You saw?”

            “Yes, I keep witnessing your romantic encounters.”

            “What?”

            “The last party we were at? Last year?”

            Dean’s memory was failing him, yet again.

            “We sort of made a pact to never tell you about this, but I think it’s time.”

            Dean turned onto his side, facing Bela,

            “I saw you snogging Lisa down the hall at Balthazar’s party last year.”

            “I – Balthazar has a lot of parties.”

            “Well, true. But that was the time you went with Castiel.”

            “Oh shit.”

            “Yeah, that’s why she was all over you like that.” Bela sat up, “We all knew you never really liked her, that you were wasted. I mean you don’t remember it, at all.”

            “I really messed stuff up, didn’t I?”

            “Castiel seems to realize it’s in the past. But Lisa doesn’t, and I think she needs to.” Bela crawled back out of Dean’s tent. She zipped the flap closed behind her.

 

 …

 

_Lisa pressed her chest against Dean’s, his back pinned against the wall. He pushed Lisa back by the shoulders, slurring a quiet ‘I can’t’ but she pushed back._

_Lisa clashed her lips against Dean’s. Dean pushed her hands away as she attempted to slide them up his shirt, her fingers cool against his skin. She pushed back._

_Lisa drew her fingernails over his chest, and Dean gave in. Kissing her back, she tasted like beer, and so did he._

_Lisa pulled away, gasping for breath. Dean heard faint yelling as she strolled away, but he stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him._


	5. C.V

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Dean woke up with a dry throat and a mouthful of red hair. Charlie was nuzzled up against his chest. Snoring loudly.

            He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He cleared his throat and Charlie groaned. “Let me sleep.”

            “No,” Dean said, “Get off. You ginger parasite.

            Charlie detached herself from Dean and rolled onto her other side, curling into the fetal position.

            Dean pulled on an _actual_ pair of jeans and left their tent. He opened the cooler and pulled out an orange. (As much as he loved his bacon, he was too lazy to cook.) Dean walked down the cracked road, hiking up a small hill to the reedy pond nestled in the middle of the campsite. Dean had spied the spot the night before when he’d been to the beach.

 Dean dangled his legs above the water, he let out a quiet sigh as he felt the rumble of footsteps on the dock behind him.

            Dean’s breath was shaky as Lisa sat down next to him. She was a good distance away, at least.

            “I’m sorry.” Lisa whispered, she smelled like beer.

“I’m sorry too.”

            She snorted, “For what?”

            “Kissing you.”

            “Wow, okay.”

            “No! I mean-” Dean turned to face her, “I liked someone else, and I hurt them, because I kissed you.”

            She laughed again. Dean could tell she was fighting tears, “That’s no better.”

            “What I mean is, I’m sorry for all of this. I like Cas and you like me, and he saw us together. I mean you’re his best friend, and I’m his- his… I don’t know. But that’s gotta hurt.”

            “God I feel terrible. And you didn’t even want to kiss me I just – I’ve liked you for a really long time and the opportunity was there. I’m sorry.”

            “I think we might have someone else to apologize to.” Dean picked at the soft wooden planks beneath him.

            Lisa nodded, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She stood up and walked away from the dock. Dean could breathe again.

            The crayfish beneath him was gone. Dean stood up and tossed his orange peel into the water. Everyone else would be waking up soon, so he walked back up the road.

He saw a few people awake. Kevin and Mick waved to him from the picnic table, Zach and his posy sneered at him from outside of on the many tents. Dean rolled his eyes. Cas was up too, and Dean walked over to him.

He was staring down the hill, resting in the shade. It wasn’t like it was cold, maybe 70 that morning, warm enough to swim.

“Heya Cas.”

He looked up at Dean, “Hello.” Dean sat down next to him. Cas’s eyes were glazed, he looked rattled. Dean nudged his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “Lisa said something strange.”

“I told her.”

“What? You knew?”

“Bela told me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you didn’t want her to kiss you. And then I ignored you for a year.” Castiel shook his head again, laughing dryly.

“No more sorry’s. I think we’ve had enough of those.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders and squeezed. The other boy pulled him in for a real hug.

“That makes up for whatever happened last night, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean’s chin rested on top of Castiel’s head. He twirled Cas’s hair with his left hand, it was greasy. “That hug sucked.”

Cas laughed, and Dean could feel his body shake with laughter. He pulled away reluctantly.

“I’m gonna go get my swimsuit on.” Dean said as someone yelled at the camp to wake up, “I assume it’s what that’s about.”

“Yes, I’d rather not swim in my clothes again.”

Dean pulled on his swimtrunks once he had gotten back to his tent, Charlie was eating a raw poptart outside the tent. Dean threw Charlie’s one-piece at her once he was done.

Sure enough, a group of teenagers were walking down to the beach. Most with some sort of neon colored floatie resting on their shoulders. He saw various pool noodles sticking out in the crowd.

Charlie yawned from behind him, “They’re swimming this early?”

Dean nodded, “It’s 11 am.”

She scoffed, “Yeah, early.”

He laughed, “Come on.” The faster you walk, the faster you get to see Dorothy in her new swimsuit.”

Her eyes widened as she pushed him forward, “Shit! Go, Go, Go!”

Dean wondered if he’d ever seen Charlie run voluntarily.

Dean followed her down the hill, but stopped once she jumped in the water. He stepped in gingerly.

“Oh come on!” She groaned.

“What! It’s cold.”

“Get in here, you big wuss.” Charlie splashed his chest.

Dean sighed, taking a breath before falling back into the water.

He gasped as he jumped up. Charlie laughed at him.

Dean rolled his eyes, but smirked as Dorothy shushed him from behind Charlie.

“What? What’s so great?” Charlie yelped as Dorothy squeezed her sides.

It was Dean’s turn to laugh then.

“Hello Dean.” Cas said, a floating head beside him in the water.

“Hey.” Dean lowered himself down beside Cas.

Charlie and Dorothy ceased their lover’s quarrel, and looked at them. “Oh hey Castiel.” Dorothy chirped.

Charlie slicked her hair back, “Aw look at you guys.”

Cas blushed, ducking his head underwater.

“Charlie!” Dean scolded.

She smiled, faking innocence.

Cas stuck his head back out of the river.

“Sorry about that.” Charlie smiled at Cas as he stood up.

“Have we properly met?” Dorothy asked, stepping forward to shake Cas’s hand. He shook his head.

“I’m Dorothy.”

“I’m Castiel.” They laughed.

Dean smiled his friends, and Charlie did too.           

“So!” Dean clapped his hands. “Now that that’s all out of the way, who’s battling me for the giant pizza floaty?”

‘You’re on!” Charlie yelled, as Dorothy and Cas splashed through the water.

 

…

 

            Someone ordered pizza at around 7 pm, while everyone was taking a break. Drying off in the almost summer sun. Dean was finished Cas’s slice of cheese pizza; he’d already had two and couldn’t finish the other. Dean had eaten four, but it didn’t exactly stop him.

            Castiel leaned against Dean’s shoulder, “You know there’s a pool, if you’re done with the river.” He whispered, careful not to startle Charlie. Who was dozing off on Dorothy’s shoulder.

            “It’s probably closed.” Dean yawned.

            Cas lifted himself up to look at Dean, his eyebrows raised. “Dean.”

            “Okay, okay.” Dean stood up, stretching himself up to the sky. Cas beckoned him over the next hill.

            The pair walked on the side of the road, though there were no cars. Cas was barefoot, and he liked to feel the grass on his feet. So he told Dean. Dean thought he’d had his fill of sunsets, but they kept getting better, especially when he was watching them with Cas.

By the time they reached the pool, night had fully set in. And like Dean had presumed, the pool was closed.

“See? Closed. Told ‘ya so.”

            Cas tilted his head, eyebrows drawn together. “Dean, when has that ever stopped you?”

            “I’m not really the bad-boy orchestra kid you think I am.”

            Castiel trekked across the parking lot, one (bare)foot in a fence triangle. Then the next. He climbed higher, then jumped down. Dean stuck his nose through the fence, and stared at him, “You amaze me, your highness.” The other boy shrugged, smiling. Dean looked up at the fence and sighed, “I hate heights.”

            Cas cooed at him, “I’ll catch you if you fall, honeybee.”

            Dean dropped his foot to the ground eyes narrowed, “What?”

            “Just climb the fence, Dean.”

            Dean laughed nervously, attempting to stick his foot back in the opening. He wedged it in as far as he could, and inserted his other. Castiel encouraged him from the other side, and Dean climbed higher. Once he’d finally slung both of his legs over to the other side, he lowered himself to the ground slowly. Unlike Castiel.

            Dean dropped to his knees, “Damn. That was scary.”

            Cas laughed, taking Deans hand and helping him up from the ground. “Would you go look for the pool lights?”

            Dean nodded, making his way to what looked like the shower-rooms, they led to the front desk, where he found a control panel. Dean observed the manila tape to the side, an arrow pointed a switch on the left, and so Dean turned it on. Sure enough, the pool lightened.

            Dean walked back through the shower-rooms to find Castiel already sitting on the diving board, dangling his feet above the water. Dean looked to the water, it was crystal clear. Sparkling in shiny fractures, illuminated by some of the only artificial lights across the whole campground.

            Dean waded in from the side, paddling to the other end of the pool. He treaded water, looking up at Castiel. Maybe poetry was his calling, because goddamn – his eyes looked brighter then the swimming pool in that moment.

            “You dragged me out here and you’re not even going to swim?” Dean scoffed.

            Cas chuckled, “Of course I am.” He stood up, and Dean scrambled to doggy paddle away from the board.

            Castiel dived into the water. His form so perfect, he barely made a splash.

            “I didn’t know you swam.” Dean remarked as Cas broke the surface.

            “I used to.” Cas said.

            Dean took a mouthful of pool water, spitting it back out at Castiel.

            He ducked underwater, swimming past Dean and grabbing his legs. “So this is how we’re playing!” Dean laughed, submerging himself and opening his eyes, facing Cas. Castiel smiled at him. And they swam up together.

            Cas splashed him once they were above, as predicted. But Dean didn’t mind, because the stars were bright, and he could see their reflections on the surface of the pool.

            “Senior year is almost over.” Cas sighed, floating on his back in the water.

            “Yeah. Are you ready to graduate?”

            “No. Maybe. You?”

            Dean scoffed. He spread his arms out, floating like Castiel. Dean cleared his throat, his voice a whisper. “And after?”

            Cas laughed, it was a small laugh. Uncertain, sad. “I’m going to travel.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes, you?”

            It was Dean’s turn to laugh. Certain, sad. “Same old Omaha.”

            “Really? You didn’t apply anywhere else?”

            “Of course I did.”

            “To where?”

            “Jacobs School of Music. But the acceptance rates for undergraduates are low. I have a life here, and I’m not good enough.” Dean barely breathed that last sentence.

            “Yes,” Castiel’s voice was low, his tone bittersweet, “you are.”

            “To think I’m usually the one trying to cheer you up.”

            “Everyone has their moments.”

            “I’ll race you. To the other side of the pool.” Dean turned in the water, so he was treading it rather than floating, Castiel did the same.

            “I’d like to see you try.”

            Dean kicked off the pool wall, streamlining forward a good distance. He swam freestyle, flipping on the other side of the pool and pushing off the opposite wall.  He looked up once he touched the side they’d started on, looking around for Cas, who was already sitting above the pool, legs dangling off the edge. Dean sighed.

            “Good try.” Cas laughed. Dean swam to the spot right in front of him, staring up. He folded him arms, resting them on the concrete. He kicked lightly.

            “So, we broke into a swimming pool.”

            “And created senior year memories.”

            Dean nodded, smiling at him. Cas grinned back; that damn grin.

            The other boy lowered himself onto his stomach, swinging his legs out behind him. Dean could see the pool’s reflection in his eyes. Swirling, bright blue.

            Dean moved himself closer, to the point where he could feel Castiel’s breath on his face.

            He closed the gap between them. Cas’s lips were dry, but soft. Everything he’d been waiting for.

[ ](http://ibb.co/nR3JJG)

 

            He pulled away as they heard a car door slam from the parking lot.

 

…

 

            They laughed all the way down the road, running breathlessly until they were far from the pool. And whoever was there looking for them. There were a few people left swimming. Well, more like somberly paddling around.

            Dean walked along the beach with Castiel, hands in his pockets. Occasionally Cas would point out a crayfish or minnow, and one of them would go for it. Dean was only pinched once or twice.

            “This has been fun.” Cas said.

            Dean bumped Cas’s shoulder, “I always have fun with you.”

            “And you are a good kisser.”

            Dean huffed, lacing his own fingers with Castiel’s.

            “Wait!” Cas scurried forward, wading shin deep into the water and hovering his hands over. He reached in, pulling out a small rust colored crawdad by the middle.

            Dean clapped as Castiel placed it back in the water. He looked up at the sky, closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of content.

            Cas stepped out of the water, sitting down next to him. “We forgot our clothes didn’t we.”

            Dean laughed, clutching his stomach. “Shit.”

            And Castiel laughed with him.


	6. C. VI

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Benny steadied his tripod, pressing record.  “May 7st, 2017.” He gestured to Dean and Cas behind the camera. “Senior year is almost over. So, I’ll be documenting each of my friends doing something interesting.”

            “And that means something we’re moderately good at.” Dean said, tightening his cello bow. Castel stood behind him, paintbrush and artist caddy ready. Charlie and Bela were studying their music.

            “Right! Take it away y’all!” Benny cheered.

            Kevin whooped from his spot on the floor.

            Dean looked at his accomplices, since Cas didn’t want to animate, he offered to paint whatever came to mind, live. He hadn’t heard Dean’s composition yet, and Dean was anxious to hear his opinion. Charlie and Bela nodded at him, and Dean counted down silently.

            With a sharp breath in, they began. Dean wasn’t paying attention to much around him. He was focused intently on the highlighted bars of his music (it helped him discern where on the staff his nots were.)

            He had played the piece a hundred times, hell he created it. But he couldn’t get it right. And you can’t truly play a piece until you connect to it, so Jody would tell him.

            He knew how Charlie and Bela felt about it, they loved it. Dean couldn’t, something was missing. But he’d play it till he got there. It was a double summative, after all.

            He didn’t know what Castiel was doing, because he wouldn’t get to see till the actual performance. Mr. Hamish had informed them all too late that they’d be performing for the whole senior class. It was a goodbye.

            Dean finished playing, drawing the final long bow across the G string. He sighed. But Kevin and Jo clapped, and Dorothy was consoling a crying Mick. Benny was standing behind the camera, speechless. And Castiel was standing facing Dean, his head tilted, paintbrush in his mouth. From what he could see, he hadn’t painted anything right then. But Dean didn’t worry.

            “That was great guys.” Dean smiled at Charlie and Bela, they were ecstatic, talking through how each of their performances would go. They’d run through them tomorrow.

            “That was amazing you four. Seriously.” Benny said, unscrewing his camera from the tripod. Dean clapped him on the back as he left the room, leaving everyone else behind to pack up.

            He walked to the nearest bathroom, on the 2 side of the building. Dean splashed a handful of water on his face and slumped against a stall door.

            Cas stepped into the bathroom, arms crossed. “Can’t get It right?”

            Dean wrung his hands together, “No.”

            “It’s wonderful. If that helps.” He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

            “Thanks.”

            “And it’s beautifully sad, nostalgic. But it’s hopeful too, curious.” Cas threw his arms around Deans neck, rocking back and forth with him. “Like that night in Niobrara. Or every time you’ve ever called me ‘your highness.’ Maybe the time you spilled smoothie on my pants.”

            Dean pulled Cas forward completely, tracing circles with his pointer finger over his spine. “You’re a genius, really.” Dean kissed his forehead.

            Cas grinned, stepping backwards. “Would you like to get smoothies again, maybe? I’ll give you a second chance.”

            “Tonight?”

            Cas nodded.

            “I have to watch Sam.”

            “Bring him along.”

            Dean raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

            “Of course.”

            Dean smiled,” You’re going to love him.”

            Cas grinned, exceptionally wide. It was a given by then. His smile got wider and wider, everytime.

            Dean didn’t bother dressing nice that night, even if it was technically a date. Sam did though, he was clad in his nicest black jeans and a button down. He even put his hair up.

            Sam rode shotgun, he talked about some new game on his phone the whole time. Dean didn’t mind. Once Dean pulled up to Cas’s house however, he shut up. Taking in the painted fence and paneling.

            “Wow, Dean. Cas is like… Picasso.”

            Dean nodded, smiling at his little brother.

            Dean stepped out of the Impala, Sam following behind him as he approached Cas’s front door. Which was painted a bright coral pink.

            Castiel’s mother answered the door, who Dean hadn’t met. She wasn’t scary it seemed, thank god. Her hair was dark brown and wavy, like Cas’s. But her eyes were hazel, not blue. And the ‘M’ of her upper lip was much more defined than her son’s. She wore a paint stain apron over an olive colored t-shirt, but the sleeves were roiled up to her shoulders.

            She smiled at them, “You two must be Sam and Dean, come in. Cas is downstairs changing into non-paint stain clothes. He’s been working since he got home.”

            The inside of Cas’s house was even more gorgeous than the outside, each wall was painted a different scene, some of abstract flowers and colors, others hype realistic landscapes.

            Dean tapped on a glass ball hanging from the ceiling, it was filled with colored sand.

            “Castiel made that when he was 7.” She said, pointing at the one Dean was touching.

            “Your house is beautiful Miss. Novak.” Sam chirped, inspecting a crystal on an endtable by the couch.

            She grinned, “Lily is fine. Dean,” she turned to him, “I heard you applied to Jacobs.”

            Dean nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

            She laughed, “Lily, please. From what Castiel has told me, you’re more than qualified.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Of course! Now, cup of tea? Soda? For either of you?”

            Dean shook his head, about to decline. When Sam spoke up, “Green tea would be nice.”

            “No, no. He’s fine.” Sam frowned at him.

            Lily laughed again, her eyes crinkled like Cas’s when she did. “No it’s fine, It’s my favorite too.”

            Before Dean could object a second time, Lily scurried off to the kitchen. Dean sat down on one of the old cow-print couches, sinking in to the surprisingly saggy cushions. He watched as Cas dashed up the stairs, tousling his hair.

            Dean smiled at him. Cas looked around, confused. “Where’s your brother?”

            “In the kitchen, having tea with your mom.”

            Cas laughed, “Well then.” He sat down on the couch next to him. “Does he know about us? Does he know about you?”

            “No,” Dean whispered, “So if we could not do that stuff, you know?”

            Castiel nodded. Dean resisted the impulse to fold his hand over the other boy’s.

            They stood, and Dean followed Cas to the kitchen. Sam looked at them, drawing himself away from he and Lily’s conversation about geology.

            He smiled at Cas, standing to shake his hand. “Hey, I’m Sam.”

            Cas gave him his Dean-famous Cas grin. “I’m Castiel.”

            Lily grabbed Sam’s mug and placed it into the sink.

            “Well you three. Have fun!” She ushered them to the entryway, pushing Sam and Cas out of the house before stopping Dean.

            She shut the door, “You’ll treat him well, won’t you?”

            Dean gulped, opening his mouth to deny her suggestion, but closing it. He nodded.

            Lily smiled, opening the door for him.

            Dean stepped onto the porch, Sam and Cas were standing in the driveway. Just in front of the Impala. Cas was pointing out details in the house’s painting. Dean heard him explaining the glass bottles hanging from the tree.

            “Are we ready?” He called, approaching his car.

            Sam nodded, “I call shotgun!”

            Dean frowned, dimples and all, as Sam climbed into the car. Cas smiled at him, scooting into the backseat. “It’s fine, Dean.”

            He shrugged, turning his key in the ignition. “Alright,” Dean cheered, “Smoothies here we come!”

            Sam whooped, and Dean turned to him. “Did you bring money, bud?”

            Sam narrowed his eyes, “Excuse me?”

            “I’m just joking.” Sam punched his shoulder, “Hey! Driving!”

 

…

 

            The parking lot of Red Mango was just as average as he remembered it, but Sam seemed to like the fake, illuminated cherry blossom tree on the patio. Dean opened the door for them.

            Cas waved to the girl behind the counter. She smiled back.

            Sam ran to the back, “You didn’t tell me they had frozen yoghurt!”

            Dean sighed, and Cas laughed as Sam reached for the biggest carton.

            “I’m with your brother, Dean. It’s a frozen yoghurt kind of night. And it’ll be harder for you to spill.”

            Dean scoffed, eyeing the machines. Sam went for a mixture of Nutella and Banana, so it seemed. Cas went straight for the peach. Dean gave in once he saw a sign for peanut butter.

            They loaded their yogurt with toppings. Sam was excited by the assortment of popping boba, and Cas was just happy they had a fully stocked compartment of waffle cone pieces. Dean took two scoops of brownie pieces, and three of the crushed recces cups.

            Dean stepped forward once they had weighed their dessert. “I’ll pay.” He handed the cashier his debit card. Cas frowned at him.

            Sam shuffled to the door, careful not to drop anything. Cas stopped him on the way out.

            “You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

            Dean smirked, “You’re my date, aren’t you?”

            Cas narrowed his eyes, “But I asked you.”

            “Okay, okay.” Dean threw his free hand into the air. “You can pay next time.”

            Dean hurried outside, finding the table Sam was at and sitting. He was already at least four bites into his yoghurt.

            “Is it good?” Cas asked, sitting down next to Dean.

            Sam nodded, “Hope it didn’t cost you too much, bro.” He looked at Dean.

            “Naw, it’s fine. It’s hiring season, anyway.” Dean said, taking a bite.

            Cas tilted his head, “You work?”

            “Depends. I get hired for gigs, sometimes I play Quinceañeras, dances, all that good stuff. Do you?” Dean nudged Cas’s shoulder.

            “I stain wood in the summer, sometimes I help my mother paint things.”

            Sam cleared his throat, “I can definitely relate to this conversation.”

            Dean rustled his brother’s hair, “You’re 14, don’t worry about it yet.”

            Cas nodded, agreeing with Dean.

            “Mom said I could help at the Grease Monkey more this summer.”

            “That’s good.” Cas said, finally taking a bite of his yogurt.

            Dean turned to him. “So, you’re traveling.”

            Cas crunched down on a bite of waffle cone, “I’ll be in Italy next fall. Studying art. It’s through a scholarship.”

            Dean sad-smiled, “I’ll miss you.”

            “I’ll write you.” Cas whispered, staring at Dean.

            Sam coughed, “Jesus guys. Phones are a thing? I know you both have them. You bought yourself an IPhone, Dean. And I’ve seen you text Cas.”

            Dean rolled his eyes, Cas chuckled.

            “He’s right. And there’s skype. We’ll deal, Dean.” His eyes softened when he said Dean’s name. He swooned.

            Sam raised his eyebrows at the two of them, but shook his head. He turned back to his yoghurt.

            Dean’s eyes drifted to his surroundings. He could appreciate Omaha evenings. The distant sound of car horns and the smell of dirt. Though nothing could compare to the sunsets he’d seen in Niobrara, the cities were good too.

            Dean jumped, startled by Sam’s sudden laughter. He pointed to the Trader Joes across the street.

            He watched a woman struggle with three pineapples in her arms. She sunk to the ground as one fell. Why she didn’t grab a cart? He didn’t know.

            “That’s a life-lesson you should never have to learn from personal experience.” Cas croaked out between fits of laughter.

            Sam scraped the side of his container with a spoon, he sighed. “I’m finished.” He tossed it into the trash can, pumping his fist in the air at the shot.

            Dean threw his as well, shrugging as he missed. He’d get it later. Cas, however, stood and threw his away. Cas picked Dean’s up, throwing his away as well. Dean thanked him.

            They were almost ready to go when Dean’s phone rang, AC/DC buzzing through the speakers. He reached into his pocket to answer.

            “Hey Mom.” He yawned.

            “Dean!” Mary shouted. He cringed, his ear ringing. “I got a letter in the mail, it’s from Indiana.”

            Dean’s heartbeat quickened. “Like, Jacobs School of Music, Indiana?”

            “Yes!”

            Dean could hear the envelope tear over the phone, he listened as his mother unfolded the paper.

Dean’s palms were sweaty. It was more than an acceptance letter; it was his future. Well, obviously. But it was different. He’d probably stay in Omaha, work as a mechanic. Like his father and mother. He’d most likely be an alcoholic.

            Or he’d be different. He’d graduated from an extremely prestigious university, get out and see things. See the world. He’d meet people. Dean would live a dream. Even if there was little money in either future.

            His heart raced, his palms were sweaty. Sam and Cas looked concerned, so he switched the phone to speaker. He mouthed the word ‘college’ to them both.

            Mary’s voice broke, she sobbed. Dean’s face fell. “I’m so proud of you, honey.” He could hear the smile in her voice, as cheesy as it sounded. Dean’s eyes brimmed with tears. His mother half-sobbed, half-laughed through the phone. “I mean, who’s going to help me out at the Grease Monkey now?”

            Sam yelped, cheering Dean’s name. Dean was sobbing, Cas was sobbing. And so was his mother.

            Cas cheered along with Sam through his voice cracks, Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Cas tasted like peaches. And then Sam was crying too, apparently not caring about what just happened.

            “I know you all just had FroYo. But I picked up a cake from the store.” Mary called through the phone, Cas looked at Dean. Dean nodded.

            “We’re coming. Also, mom, please never say FroYo again.” Dean said, pressing the end button.

            The three of them piled back into the car. Sam played ‘Faith of the Heart’ from Enterprise through the speakers. He sang along, still crying.  At least he had the courtesy to sit in the back.

            Cas placed his hand over Dean’s. “I’m proud of you.”

            Dean smiled, “To keep it real, I didn’t think I’d get in. At all.” Cas squeezed his hand. “After I sent in those forms, and that audition tape, I lost hope. I applied to UNO too, they didn’t take me. I know, the University of No Opportunities rejected me.” Dean laughed.

            “I have always believed in you, Dean. I always will.”

 

…

 

            Mary got home a little bit later than them. She busted through the door with an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. It wasn’t customized, as it was rather late notice, but it was Dean’s favorite.

            The first thing she did was hug Dean, then Sam, and then Cas. After she had shook his hand and introduced herself, of course

            Mary cut them each off slices of the cake, helping herself to a large one, but handing the three boys thinner slices.

            “I can’t believe we’re celebrating my boy going to college!” She exclaimed, settling down into her chair. They were eating in the living room; it was a special occasion, after all.

            Cas sat next to Dean, disregarding the large portion left of the couch. Their shoulders were almost touching.

            Sam was sitting in the middle of the rug, spinning in circles on his tailbone as he ate. Dean rolled his eyes.

            “I can’t either.” Cas said, an affectionate smile now seemed to be permanently plastered to his face.

            Mary raised her eyebrow, but continued anyway. “I remember your first cello lesson.”

            “Yeah, yeah. Me, crying. You, inspiring. Scene!”

            Cas laughed, Sam stopped spinning and fell to his back.

            Mary frowned, “Well, Castiel. You don’t know the story, do you?” He shook his head. “It was after one of John’s particularly terrible nights, when we were still going through legal processing. I thought it would take his mind off things, give him something to focus on. Now look at him!”

            Cas tilted his head at Dean, he mouthed a sentence. But Dean could only pick out the word ‘father.’ Dean looked to his mom, widening his eyes and gesturing to Castiel. Her mouth stretched into an ‘O’ shape.

            He knew it was probably a better idea to not finish his cake, but he did anyway. Dean was graduating, and going to the school of his dreams. He’d risk being bloated for that.

            Mary poked at the melted ice cream on her plate with her fork. She cleared her throat, “So, how was your date?”

            Dean scoffed, “Mom, It wasn’t a date. Besides, Sam was there.”

            Sam laughed, “Didn’t matter!” He called.

            Dean frowned, but Cas managed to speak before him. “It was wonderful, Mary. I’d love to take your son on another.”

            Mary smiled, “Of course.”

            Dean sighed, “There goes waiting.”

            “I’ve waiting long enough for you to come around.” Cas retorted. Sam cupped his hands over his mouth and whooped.

Dean could make out what Castiel mouthed then; “We’re even.”

 

…

_Dean rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder, his eyes slowly closing shut._

_“_ _Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_ _such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, that is, the madman: the lover, all is frantic.” Castiel stopped, Dean lifted his head._

_“You’re not really listening, are you.”_

_“No.” Dean yawned._

_“It’s actually a really good piece of fiction, Dean.”_

_“You’re more interesting.” Dean laid his head back down on Castiel’s shoulder, shifting to find his previous position._

_“I’ve read all of this to you and you don’t even care.”_

_“I tried.” Dean whispered._

_Castiel groaned, he began to speak, but stopped. Dean could feel him relax against the bookshelves. He closed his eyes, and drifted off._


	7. C. VII

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

Even after all of Castiel’s suggestions, Dean couldn’t get it right. He played and played, drilling it at home and school.

            He even asked Jody for advice. To which she shrugged and said _, “Dean, you’re all grown up. This is your story now, and I can’t tell you what to visualize.”_

They’d been running through Charlie and Bela’s pieces first each practice. It gave Dean more time to dread the inevitable.

            He played the song perfectly, never faltering, never missing a sharp or flat. But if he wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t real.

            Dean could fake interest, raise his eyebrows and swoon with the rhythm. He did it every school concert. But not this time, it was his final high school performance (besides his senior recital,) and he wouldn’t let it disappoint. Charlie and Bela stopped to ask him if he was alright after each rehearsal, and he told them yes.

            But Dean couldn’t exactly fake it during the final rehearsals. Especially when Mr. Hamish was watching, along with the rest of the class.

            Dean entered the stage left. Castiel would be with him that night, but he was nowhere to be found. Dean knew he was fine, though. About an hour ago he texted him a heart emoji and a smiley face.

Charlie and Bela entered from the right. He sat down in his chair, flipping back to page one of his piece. It was staged, as they had already been on stage before, playing his partners songs. Charlie and Bela nodded to him. Dean prepared his breath, looking around him. It would be one of the last times he’d be on this stage, the last time he’d step down on the glossy flooring and curse at the creaking during a concert.

It would be the last time he’d play in the pit for the school musical (they did Grease twice in the last four years.) The last time he’d watch Charlie and Mick chase each other around during play rehearsal, or Bela roll her eyes behind set.

Dean smiled, and breathed in. He was unsure playing the first notes, but something shifted. Dean knew he had it, because he didn’t want to yell while playing. It was smooth, beautiful. Dean felt like he was truly hearing it for the first time. He swayed with the rhythm, and it wasn’t fake.

Dean’s orchestra class clapped for him, while Mr. Hamish cheered from the balcony. He told the class that he’d let them do it on their own, most of them were adults anyway.

Dean left the stage with Charlie and Bela, because they were busy expressing how proud they were of him.

“I can’t believe we did it.” Charlie gushed, she kissed Dean’s cheek.

Bela snapped her violin case closed, “We’re proud of you Dean.”

Dean laughed, ‘Would you be prouder if I told you I got into Jacob’s?”

The group about to play must have been startled by Charlie’s scream, because he heard a bow crash to the floor. Charlie danced around behind the curtain, while Bela hugged him. Which was one of the only times Bela had ever shown him affection.

“I hate to be a downer,” Bela pulled away, “But I’m going back to London after school’s over. I’ll be studying there.”

Charlie stopped dancing. Dean smiled, “We know it’s best for you, Bells.”

“Never call me that again, if you please.”

Charlie giggled, “Oh come here, we love you.” She wrapped Bela in a hug, and Dean followed. She didn’t pull away, and Dean thought he felt a tear drop onto his chest, but he may have been imagining things.

Once they had finally left backstage and returned their instruments to B-13, the trio walked the extra four flights of stairs to the balcony. Where groups who had already performed sat. Dean sat in the front, resting his feet on the barrier.

He’d learned about Jacob’s School of Music when he was eight years old. Jody applied twice, once as an undergrad, and the second after. She told Dean she was happy they rejected her, because she had a life in Omaha at the time, a baby girl and another on the way. It wouldn’t have been easy for her.         

Dean took a tour of the campus Sophomore year. They were driving through Indiana and Dean signed up to go, it solidified his dream school. And after that, all he had to do was make money. Dean held down a job at Baker’s while simultaneously being hired once a week for gigs. He made money, enough to pay for housing and supplies, assuming he made it in.

Dean didn’t get a full-ride scholarship, the one he had would pay for only three semesters of tuition. Dean was ecstatic when he received it though. Junior year had been his peak, minus some things, and receiving a ‘Buffett Scholarship’ from his school was one of the high points. Dean would have to work, but he’d make it.

Mr. Hamish sat down on the seat next to him, he yelled out which groups he wanted to hear again since Dean, Bela, and Charlie were the finale. “I heard the good news.” He grinned.

Dean nodded, “I’m still in shock.”

He laughed, “I know you’ll do great there, even though Central will miss you. I’m obligated to say that, but it’s true.”

“They’ll miss me performance-wise.”

            “Well, yes. Your GPA isn’t a perfect 4.50. Or a perfect 4.0. Or even a 3.75. But you’re an asset to this school we’ve all appreciated. From day one.”

            “Even when I accidentally tossed out 20 books of sheet music?”

            “Yes, even then.”

            “How about when I spilled coffee into the f-holes of your string bass?”

            “It sure takes accuracy for that to happen.”

            Dean shrugged. He smiled, “But I’ll miss the school. And the people in it.”

            Mr. Hamish patted him on the back, and climbed back up the seats to the top.

            Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he checked his notifications. Happy school was technically over.

            Cas had texted him, no emojis this time. “ _meet me in the art room. hope you know where that is_.”

            Dean scoffed, he left the balcony. Taking the stairs up to the fourth floor two at a time.

            Ms. Simmons opened the door for him. She smiled, pointing to the back of the classroom. Castiel was sitting on the floor, rubbing the bristles of a paintbrush against his lips.

            “You’d think that after all these years of painting you’d be more precise.” Dean said, surveying the paint spilled across the drop cloth piled underneath him.

            Castiel shook his head, “Never.”

            Dean laughed, “So, what’s up?”

            Castiel stood up off the ground, he led Dean around the corner. Cas nodded to his side, a cloaked canvas laid on the floor. It stretched about the size of the room length wise, and was almost taller than him in width.

            It was breathtaking, even though he couldn’t see what was painted on it.

            Dean grinned, he looked to Cas, who was smiling back.

            “It’s amazing.” Dean said, looking down at Castiel’s paint splattered jeans.

            Cas huffed, “You haven’t seen it yet.”

            Dean shrugged, “I know it’s great.

            “Yeah, yeah. Save it for dress rehearsal, then you can judge me.”

            Dean groaned, “Fine. But I know you’ll impress me.”

            Cas smiled, he led Dean out of his space and down to the third floor. The stood at the base of the stairs.

            “School isn’t very busy at 6pm in May, is it.” The glossy wooden floorboards creaked beneath Dean’s feet.

            Dean shook his head, Slipping his hand into Castiel’s.

            “I think I’ll miss this.”

            “I know I will miss you.”

            Dean laughed, “Save it for graduation.”

…

            Dean tapped his foot impatiently, watching the groups before him perform a second time. He groaned. He’d sat through these four times in the past couple days, and though he enjoyed seeing the new additions, he just wanted to perform his.

            As they walked on stage for Bela’s piece, Dean could feel his heartbeat. Mick’s storyboard was beautiful, and completely unique. There was wash of sticky notes plastered against a wall of wood. As the colors came together, they formed three large images. An eagle (reminiscent of the school mascot), a fox – twisted and frightened in its expression, and a rabbit – happily propped against the fox’s tail. A red line connected all three. It was long and twirling, in some sections it was knotted. Dean scanned the audience for Mick, and gave an impressed nod, he smiled back.

            Dean closed his eyes throughout most of his playing, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than his upcoming one. It would be the first time Cas heard his piece finished, and he wanted to impress.

            Dean grinned as he lifted his bow of the string and slouched back in his chair. He nodded to Charlie and Bela as he set his cello down on its side and rushed behind the curtain. He helped Kevin wheel out a smartboard and plugged in the projector resting on the podium below the stage. Dean took his seat as Kevin turned on the projector and pressed play on a tiny grey remote. It was a black screen at first, Charlie nodded and Dean raised his bow on the string. Charlie breathed in, and the group began her piece.

Dean saw a few scenes as he glanced at the board. In each short animation, there was a bright yellow canary that stood out against the black and white color scheme. In every short clip, Kevin had animated scenes of despair. He picked out survivors of natural disasters, groups protesting violence, the survivors of terrorism.

The canary fluttered from scene to scene, dropping the piece of a red string in each victim’s hands. Dean hadn’t realized their theme was so metaphorical, or that each of Charlie and Bela’s artists had collaborated on a single idea. As Dean finished, he looked back to see a single yellow feather float to the bottom of the screen, and disappear.

Charlie rushed to hug Kevin across the stage, and Dean heard a few cheers from his class.

Castiel waved at Dean from behind the curtain, and Dean crossed the stage to him, wringing his hands to keep calm.

“That was amazing.”

Dean nodded, “Can I help you move anything.”

Cas moved to a wooden cart behind him, his canvas was resting on the floor, he grabbed one side and ushered for Dean to grab the other.

They propped the artwork on the stand and wheeled it out together, Dean was careful to watch for cords below him. They positioned the canvas behind the trio’s setup. Luckily, the stand was tall enough to raise the painting above Dean, Bela, and Charlie.

Castiel gave him thumbs up, and Dean walked back to his seat confused. He positioned his cello in between his legs, and raised his bow on the string, he didn’t know when the canvas would be unveiled, but he was sure Cas had a plan. Dean breathed in, and the three drew their first chord. It was loud, striking. The harmonies made Dean grin every time, and when he looked back to the canvas, it was unveiled.

Dean couldn’t believe he kept his grip on his bow, and his vibrato faltered for a second.

It was beautiful. A light pink wash highlighted the colors of a sunset, one that Dean recognized as the sunset they’d watched together. The water underneath the magenta sun sparkled, and Cas hadn’t left out the brownish patches of foam they’d blown at eachother.

Was he crying? Probably.

Dean was glad he’s listened to Jody’s advice about memorizing his piece, because he couldn’t keep his eyes from Cas’ painting. The longer he looked at it, the more beautiful it became.

Dean began to notice more details. Like the wet footprints in the sand of the beach Cas had painted, or the shirt tossed over a pair of converse resting on a piece of driftwood almost buried in the sand.

Dean’s hands shook as he drew the final note of his composition, a dotted c-natural. He closed his eyes and stared at his music. Realizing he hadn’t turn the page past the second one. Dean laughed.

Castiel stepped out from behind his work. He was clapping slowly, a sad smile turning the corners of his lips. Dean moved to help Cas wheel the cart off stage.

As Dean pushed it behind the curtain, his eyes wandered to the bottom right corner of the painting. He stared at where the shoes poked out from under the shirt.

The laces hung messily over their fronts, red and tattered.


	8. C. VIII

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

_“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance, the thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.”_

           

            Charlie brushed a ball of lint from Dean’s suit, straightening his tie. “Are you ready?”

            “Physically, yes.”

            Charlie laughed. Bela was resting against a thick purple-painted column on the floor. “This is our last secondary school performance.” She whispered.

            Charlie sat down next to her, “You’re damn right. We’re gonna rock this thing.”

            Bela huffed, “Alright. When do we go on?”

            Dean plucked at his cello strings as he twisted the tuning pegs. “In like thirty minutes.”

            Charlie’s eyes widened, “I need to get into my fancy clothes, shit.”

            Bela laughed, “And wipe the pizza sauce off your face. Let’s go!” She ushered Charlie out of B-13.

            Dean sighed, looking down at his dress shoes, he felt uncomfortable, to say the least. He looked up in time to see Castiel walking towards him, he was smiling.

            “Hello, Dean.”

            “Heya, Cas.”

            “Are you ready?” He asked, sitting down on the chair with Dean. Dean scooted to the side, he hung halfway off the furniture.

            “I’ve heard that question a lot. And I think I’ve finally come up with a real answer.” Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

            “You’ve worked hard for this, Dean. What I heard earlier this evening was amazing, I wanted to cry. I wish you’d play for me more.” Dean made a mental note to serenade his boyfriend more often – it was metaphorically highlighted and written in bright red sharpie. “You have no reason to be nervous other than the basic human tendency to hate crowds of people watching them.”

            Dean laughed, his shoulder rested against Cas’. He sighed in content. “I can’t tell you how amazing that painting is, by the way.”

            “You just did.” Castiel pressed a kiss against Dean’s cheek and stood up. Dean watched him leave, he sighed.

            Dean walked to the front of the room, tapping on Mr. Hamish’s music stand. A few of his peers turned to face him. “Charlie and Bela are going to give you guys a speech. So be hostile.” They laughed, and Dean sat down on a wooden table near the Smart-board.

            Charlie jumped over the metal bars leading down the band walkway, she ran to the front of the room and whistled. All 37 chamber strings kids turned to face the front of the room. Bela walked to her side.

            “As concert mistress – and Orchestra class president – I would like to give a few words of something before my last performance.” A few kids whooped, one of them gave a good-natured ‘boo’ Bela raised her eyebrows in his direction, and the class laughed.

            “And as your viola section leader and Orchestra class Vice President, I’d like to stand around and cheer Bela on, as always.” Charlie said. Taking a seat behind the piano.

            Bela chuckled, waving her arm in the air. “It’s been a great four years. I hope you all know that,” She said, “The last words of advice I have for you are to keep playing to your greatest abilities, and don’t give up.”

            “Blah-blah. Cheese.” Charlie mused, striking a minor chord on the piano.

            Bela sighed, but she was smiling, “Anyway. Line up in order of performance, we’re on in ten. I love you guys.”

            Everyone cheered then, including Dean.

            “And one more thing!” Charlie yelled, quieting the class.

            Bela gestured to Dean, “Respect your honorary presidential cabinet member, help him clean up your paper plates and shit.”

            “Also!” Charlie said, “Play well violas! You’re valid and important.”

            Bela rolled her eyes, and Dean watched Charlie play one final arpeggio on the piano before standing up and walking to her viola case, Bela did the same.

            Dean lifted his cello by the neck and hooked his finger on the bow, they’d be the last group out.

            Dean may have bumped the bottom of his cello on the stairs, but he’d done it so many times, and he knew it’d be fine. Just in case, he checked his instrument. Fine, like he thought.

            To be honest, Dean didn’t know how to whole class was going to fit backstage including instruments and artworks, but he trusted Mr. Hamish. Dean finally squeezed in behind everyone, and watched the first group take to the stage.

            Bela pushed through the crowd, and tapped the microphone set up for her. She gave a short speech about the recital, and told a few shitty jokes that Charlie laughed at. Dean told himself he was laughed because she was too.

            “Are you pumped?” Charlie whispered excitedly as Bela walked back to their spot at the back of the stage.

            “After those hilarious jokes I am.” Dean laughed, grinning at Bela. He waved as Mick, Kevin, Cas, Dorothy, Jo, and Benny approached them.

            Benny snapped a photo of Dean waving. “How did you even get back here?” Bela asked.

            Benny shrugged, “School newspaper, future journalist.”

            “I told them I was dating the VP.” Dorothy said.

            “I helped set up lighting and sound.” Jo smiled, pointing at the PAR and strip lights.

            Kevin cleared his throat, “That’s great and all guys, but we have an idea and a limited timeframe.”

            Mick produced a spool of red thread from his pocket. “There’s a Chinese proverb about the _red string of fate,_ it’s a popular trope, and you’ve probably heard of it.”

            Castiel looked at Dean, “It states that people who are destined to meet are connected by one, it’s an invisible thread that’s tied to your pinky.”

            “Hence the artworks all featuring one.”

            Benny snapped a picture of Mick holding the spool.

            “So we want you to tie one to your pinky fingers.” Mick said, He handed the spool to Castiel, who snapped off three long pieces. “You can still play like that, right?”

            Dean laughed, “Oh, you’re serious. Yeah.”

            Cas took Dean’s hand, handing the other two pieces of thread to Dorothy and Mick.

            “I’m supposed to tie this to her pinky?” Dorothy asked, raising her head from Charlie’s shoulder.

            “Yes.” Castiel said, wrapping the thread around Dean’s finger and tying it off into a bow. He smiled up at him.

            “We know you’ll all do great.” Jo said, taking the thread from Mick, who was struggling to tie a bow.

            “And I’ll be snapping shots of you guys so look cool.” Benny gave them a thumbs up.

            “Yes,” Bela said, “We still have about twenty minutes until we go on. So, go enjoy the other performances.”

            “Wait,” Kevin said, “Take a cool picture of their hands in a circle with the thread.”

            Benny nodded to him. Snapping a couple from various angles after they had posed their hands ‘correctly’.

            Dean cooed as Dorothy kissed Charlie goodbye and waved as she walked off. Kevin, Mick, and Cas stayed behind.

            “That was a really cool idea, you guys.” Charlie beamed.

            “Cheesy, but cool.” Dean said.

            “I like it. Mick and I used to read this children’s book about that proverb in Primary school.” Mick nodded.

            ‘I loved that book.” He said.

            Castiel looked at Mick and Bela, “My mother used to read Gabe and I stories about it before bed.”

            “That’s adorable.” Dean awed quietly.

            Cas chuckled, “Not as adorable as you.”

            Kevin fake-gagged. “Alright, save the PDA for graduation.”

            “What?” Dean said, assuming an addled expression, “We were just talking.”

            Kevin laughed, “Good luck guys. Dean, Mick is going to help me set up the smartboard and stuff this time, so don’t worry about it.”

            Dean nodded, Castiel squeezed his hand. “I know I will be proud of you all no matter what happens.” Cas grinned.

            “Damn,” Charlie laughed, “There’s the overwhelmingly sweet positivity we’ve been needing in this friend group for years.” Cas chuckled with her. “Why didn’t you and Dean get together sooner?”

            Cas widened his eyes at Charlie, nodding his head. “That’s what I said!”

            Dean scoffed. Mick patted him on the shoulder, offering a knowing expression.

            Their artists found their way back through the crowd. Bela waved.

            “Is anyone else almost peeing their self?” Bela asked.

            Dean and Charlie attempted to stifle their laughter, “I am now.”

            “That might be the funniest thing you’ve ever said.”

            “I bet you’re only laughing so hard because you’re nervous too.” Bela said, Dean could tell by her repressed smirk that she was hiding her own laughter.

            “Alright, alright.” Charlie said, patting her stomach. She snorted, getting out one last fit of laughter, “We’re on in five.”

            The trio pushed through the diminished group of students. There were a few artists disassembling their works to fit them through the small stage doors, and one or two orchestra kids he recognized who must have finished packing up early.

            As the group before them finished, Dean, Charlie, and Bela took a collective breath. They pushed through to their seats as Jo dimmed the lights. Dean took a deep breath. When Jo brought them back up in a pink tint, Dean looked out at the audience. He couldn’t really make out any faces, because the crowd was dark, just barely illuminated by the soft lighting bouncing back from the stage.

            The spotlight shone exclusively on the group, careful to hide the rest of the stage.

            Behind him he could hear Mick, Cas, and Kevin wheel out Mick’s artwork. Bela set her bow on the string and nodded, Dean did the same. As she huffed, Dean drew his first note. He closed his eyes, absorbed into the music.

            When he opened them again after the whole note, Jo had drawn the lights to a harsher pink. The audience could just barely make out Mick’s piece. As Bela and Charlie started on their first chord, she turned them on fully.

            Dean had run lighting once or twice as crew in the theatre productions, and he knew enough about it to gauge how the audience felt. When he glanced over to his side he saw what he knew he would. Most – if not all – of the attendees looked impressed, some with their mouths wide open. Dean saw one girl quickly lean to her friend and nod vigorously. Dean grinned as he looked back to his music.

            Dean was sure they’d left at least one or two audience members in tears as they wrapped up Bela’s piece. It was a lot of emotions, from cheerful to sad, from rapid triplets to soft half notes.

            It was almost like the overture to their performance.

            Dean beamed at his partners, who smiled back, as Kevin wheeled the smartboard out on stage, Mick plugged in the projector, and Jo brought the lights up from the top. Dean assumed there was only light anywhere so they could read their sheet music, the focus would be on Kevin’s animation.

            As the black screen produced a few words, which Dean didn’t have time to read, Charlie signaled them to begin. Charlie’s piece went just as well. Jo seemed to realize halfway through that they didn’t need much light, and dimmed it down slowly.

            From what Dean heard, the audience loved Kevin and Charlie’s work. They clapped for at least a minute when it was over, and Dean gulped.

            He was next. His composition was next. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, he’d done solos before in front of crowds much larger than the once he was facing, but this was different. This project had left him stressed, confused, and frankly - terrified. On the other hand, it had brought him a future, the piece was the one submitted to Jacob’s, and he’d never have made it in if it weren’t for his days spent creating it.

            But most importantly, it was what brought him back to Castiel. He’d never had found his way without an excuse. Dean would still be desperately wondering what had pushed them apart.  
            He shut his eyes as Cas rolled his piece out from behind the stage. He was still clenching his eyes shut when he started playing.

            When he finally opened them, he heard Charlie let out a shaky sob as she played. The light was a soft orange, if he hadn’t have known who was behind it, he’d say it looked like a real sunset.

            When Dean stopped playing, cheers erupted from the crowd. They weren’t the normal cheers you’d hear at a concert for classical music, that was for sure.

            Dean stepped forward with his friends, he took Cas’ hand, and bowed.


	9. C. IX

[ ](http://ibb.co/fms96R)

 

“To set the scene, Graduation. There are chairs, their cases a purple velvet – probably fake – set in meticulous rows across the gym. Though we’re waiting for the signal from Dr. Tennant, we can safely predict from what we saw at rehesa-“

            “Alright, Alright.” Dean said, taking the camera from Benny. “I support your ambitions, but we really need to line up.”

            Benny sighed, waving to Dean as he walked to his place in line near the L’s.

            Once they were told to enter the gym, the crowd of students fell silent. Dean was of the last students out of Baxter Arena’s lobby, hence the W, and into the actual arena. He didn’t see his mom, brother, Jody - or her daughters - among the crowd but he knew they were out there.  

            Dean took his seat, nervously tracing designs in the easily manipulable velvet covering. He only partially listened to the names being called, tuning in every once and a while to clap for his friends.

            When Castiel crossed the stage, Dean realized he’d been holding his breath. Though he’d never met Cas’ older brother, he assumed it was Gabriel that he heard yell ‘Get ‘em Cassie’ from the crowd.

Dean was listening then, he picked at his fingernails as he heard the letters count down. He called a Wang, and then a Wilmore.

Winchester.

Everything had led up to that moment, he’d claim otherwise, but graduation was important to him.

He clutched the fabric of his gown. Dean gingerly took his diploma, sighing.

            Dean heard his brother scream then. His mom too. And Charlie from the rows of students.

            Dean didn’t know if he’d ever felt more proud.

            He walked back to his seat, smiling at the girl next to him, she grinned back. Dean examined the gold writing of his diploma. He nodded to the small purple eagle printed on the side, “Class of 2017” written beneath it.

            The last name was called. Dean stood, clutching his purple cap. He held it above his head, cheering.

            Once he had pushed his way through the crowds of students, Dean found his family.

            “I think this calls for ice cream.” Sam yelled, tugging on Dean’s sleeve, even though they nearly matched in height.

            “You think everything calls for ice cream.” Dean said, rustling his younger brother’s hair.

            “Yeah, well I agree.” Jody side hugged Dean, while Claire and Alex began to joke with Sam.

            Dean sent a quick text to his friends, telling them to head to Ted and Wally’s once they were done with family things. Or to just bring their families.

            He added a heart to the end of the one sent to Castiel.

 

…

 

            Dean drove the car to Ted and Wally’s. And ran to Cas as he stepped out of the car, who looked giddy and frazzled.

            Cas buried his head into Dean’s neck. Dean closed his eyes.  “You looked really great crossing that stage.” Dean whispered.

            “Thank you, Dean. I was too busy crying to truly get a clear look at you. I hope your mother took good pictures.”

            Dean laughed, Castiel laughed back. His warm breath made the hair on Dean’s neck stand up.

            As they finally pulled away, Dean watched his mother greet Castiel’s. Jody greeted Cas’ mom with a hug. They smiled at each other, Dean grinned as their parents expressed their admiration for each other’s child. Though he didn’t know if he deserved it.

            Or Castiel for that matter.

            Dean joked with his friends as he licked his peanut butter ice cream, holding Cas’ hand under the table. Benny snapped continuous shots of his friends, sniffling in between each one. Jo laughed at him, warning that he would inevitably spill ice cream on his ‘high dollar photo machine’.

            Kevin, Bela, and Mick argued about which fast food ice-cream was the greatest. While Charlie and Dorothy made plans to see each other the next weeks. At their rate, the two would be married by October.

            Sam poked at his banana split with a plastic fork, “I don’t think I can eat all this.”

            Claire offered to take it off his hands. Sam gladly accepted the offer.

            Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand. When he looked down under the table Dean squeezed back.

            Dean traced the lines of Cas’ palm with his thumb. He looked again. The red thread was still tied to Dean’s pinky, Castiel’s too.

 

_Dean sighed, waving a hand in front of Castiel’s eyes. His friend blinked, and sat up, turning slightly to the side to face him._

_“Sometimes I wish we didn’t sit together practically every class.”_

_“Aw come on. That’s a lie.”_

_Cas gave in, smiling at him. “You got me.”_

_“So,” Dean hummed, “What does that mean anyway?” He pointed to Castiel’s drawing._

_The other boy let out a short, breathy laugh. “Maybe someday you’ll know._

            Dean knew.


End file.
